There go my chances of sleeping any further;

24 12 2013

It’s 2:53 am here.

And I can’t find sleep.

It’s funny because most of the time it’s because of restless thoughts, but tonight I don’t really have any. I just can’t find sleep.

And it’s far too late and I’m far too lazy to try and workout right now.

I know I have thoughts in my head, but they’re so beyond my reach my brain may as well be empty. I can’t turn them into writing at this point..Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep, my mind is trying to find it’s way back into writing.
Maybe it’s trying to give me an idea but I can’t listen at the moment because I’m concentrating on trying to pass out.

“That doesn’t even make sense you scum bag”

Hey, I’m trying here. It’s beautiful you know, writing. It’s an absolute beauty…it goes beyond expressing yourself.
It’s deterring losing your way in this world of letters, makes you kind of give up in a way. Even if no one reads your writings..Anyway. I’m over this romantic writing deal..HEY! maybe that’s it.
I’ve got new words to spit! and I’ll find a way to do write them…but I’ll find this energy in the morning.  These eyelids are getting heavy…Maybe that was the thought I needed to give me sleep?

“You need rest, I’m glad this romanticism is over though. Night Kid”


A closed story; Freestyle.

30 04 2012

Put your vice on the table so we can talk about what this has to do with you alive; you left before I could get my hands and my arms around all the little things that made you up. So much for luck, you blew all of your cards on one dumb play and now I’m sweeping your remains. Forget what’s owed, it never mattered at all.

I kid because I love; I’m worried, I’m worried on you. We wrote the book on ruining your friends, we wrote the book on skipping to the end, like when I get home and “I’m so tired baby, just roll over please, I’m so tired baby, roll over please, I’m so tired baby, roll over please; wash rinse repeat, You say these things until they’re canon.

Just throw up your hands and die, give up and learn how to cry, wash it down with the taste of sour defeat; Press it against me until I start to suffocate from the smell (It’s all right, it’s okay, just come home, come home)

We wrote the book on playing out, we wrote the book on closing out,

we wrote the book…

Don’t you think I’d change it if I could?;;

7 03 2012

I haven’t written in a while, and it feels different; Something I don’t want to get used to..

I know that times are getting hard, all our friends can’t find jobs; and we’re running out of people we can trust; the heat costs more than we can afford and medical expenses are starting to make you feel drowned.

But I’m not giving up. The clouds may never part for us like they used to, and I’m still not giving up on us. we’ve got heartache. we’ve got life. we have memories we haven’t made yet.

We have nights under covers, under stars..and we have days that we never want to end. and I promise we will miss all of this someday, and I promise we will miss these days.

I still remember what it felt like; waking next to you; and I still remember the feeling of your breath on my hair. I still remember what it felt like to have you here; and I still remember everything about our lives. and I will always be there to hold you up, and I will always forgive you when we fight. After all this time, I’ve learned that all those wishes lead were bad decisions and failure; but you’re the one thing I got right.

it’s that time of the night when my eyes start tricking me, all the gray blends into something surreal, like an undiscovered variant of tan, that goes good with black, and i’m tired.

made it there, nothing came over me.

17 02 2012

This is the most complex thing I’ve ever seated myself into; a recollection of events? I’ve got empty sockets; I admit I’m not the person I’d like to be, and I don’t feel what I’ve seen of myself in a mirror.

My pockets aren’t full, nor is my brain when I actually try to figure out what I’ll become of myself, or when I simply try to piece together the events in a day; I feel clouded. Incapable.

Living from paycheck to paycheck, thin on time, and testing the patience of everyone I’ve met, doesn’t seat well. I can sleep to blackened brains, in no one’s thoughts. Some reputation I’ve made I guess. Some thing I’ve done to get these brains all against me, or something, or maybe everyone has grown sick of my paranoia?

We were all raised to respect things, and we were all so quick to break the rules. Mirrored now, surely. And still I give them the impression I’m the image of a saint. I’m still a fucking asshole, things hardly earn my respect, aside from those I’d like to call my friends. I have met a deal of good people, but I’m pretty far gone; for now.

Not good enough anymore, for them or me. There’s a really cool side to this all, the person I want to be, but find myself punching the snooze button on.. the girl that stuck to a real mind, a beating heart, and had that slick little mind, with the hip clothing and a smile constantly in the window. The girl that can afford to buy jeans, and enjoy a night off. Well, through this entire maelstrom of negativity; I’ve got hope, I’ll be that girl; It’s something I won’t ignore. I know in my heart, that I’ll get by. I know that my life isn’t built on lies.

I’m always so mixed in my own head, in my own words. Most people don’t know what it is to have these huge ideas, with no means to lift them.

I’ve been complaining I’m sure; it’s all from noticing what’s been happening right in front of me, shit hands have been dealt, and the news I hear is always talking negative to me. My eyes sparkle up when I look back on the heat, and the sprinklers of the summers. The summers that I’ve wasted with a boy I mean nothing or little to.

If you’ve made it this far, and you are not clicking ‘unfollow’ or rather writing me off in this mind you’ve got, maybe you could help me figure out how to un-fuck this whole situation? thoughts, critic, anything?