the year is 2012. the dinner that took 2 or 4 or 7 hours to make was left untouched on the reservated table. time didnt matter anymore, neither did effort of any sort. the electric candles were lit and the forks layed next to the spoon and knives. the ticking of the clock left the women in the tight red dress uneasy and in a profound amount of loneliness. 2 or 4 or 7 hours went by; the lonely women stood watching herself sitting on the purely white couch in that same dress that was now loose compared to what you pictured of her wearing earlier on.. glancing back and forth to that empty table, her back neck couldve been broken boned and twisted by now. one last glance and the candles would be out. that glance never happened and neither did her reservation. the pruely white couch now wore a dent from where she had been sitting and waiting and that was the only problem she had felt to care about that night..
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Hello. My existance is nothing without that little spark of genious that i am so thankful to be aquainted with. It fills me with words of unrivaled energy and passion. Bring on the storm.
This is the last column of the last page in your Sunday paper. It is the lesser of two evils that worship your little tiny purple toes. It does not mean anything. It is a single word short red meaninglessnes...
Walk me home next time. I do not want to take your car. it does not please me. She looked me in the eyes of that last moment and took me by the wrist and pulled me into her clutches of snowclustered enjoyment. I take it too seriuosly sometimes. Those simple moments that mean so much, and have such an impact. The ones that when you look at her, and smile, she brings you to your knees. The blank expression staring you in the face. It does not pay to reminise on these things. She took my hand, the frost on the windsheild beginning to fade. The faintest hint of rap song in the background cannot bring light to this situation. The car drives on, with its music playing and the girl without her red hat sitting in the passenger seat worrying about the images of green little monsters ruining her life. Too bad for them she is the wiser, and they know nothing of the powers of love.
It all starts with the sense of the fall months. The sense that the mornings of dew covered leaves, and little green monsters running rampid mean nothing. It all just means nothing to her at this point. There is no point for her. SHe does not long to find one along her path. She chooses to wander it alone, with her cigarette in hand not thinking about the wolves lurking all around her. They bring things of white, and the ugliest grey you would ever wish to not encounter. She knows the dangers of the forest though. She knows wheres shes going without the destination. But then her fantasy is snapped in half with the sound of a little gnome in the distance. He invites her to play with him among the stars. He is the only imaginitive boy in the forest and he does not want to travel to the stars alone. The girl finds herself in a predicament with no path chosen yet, becuase thats the way it should be. She sits and wonders how the world will end. She decides she wants the freedom of wide open space and she joins the gnome. At first she does not know that this has nothing to do with little paper drwaings, and everything to do with july 17th, but then she realizes... Then again, this has nothing to do with that.
It is not in the impossibility of magical moments that she imagines her life. She wants something tangible. Something that she can recognise. Well recognize this. This has nothing to do with that. It doesn't mean a fucking thing.
The changes of seasons can be subtle to many, but not those who are outdoors to experience it. Feel it. Live the green to yellow and red transitions. I will be there for you when the colors fade and the seasons change again. Forever. Something you can always take comfort in. Knowing that this is nothing..... at all..... about you.
Forget your in love for this dire second. It means nothing of course. But try to do it. Can you feel less comforted.... Eyes sprinkled with a hint of purple just above the cheeks. Legs taunting everyone with their gaze. But they do not know FUCKING ANYTHING ABOUT THAT! SO THEY SHOULD STOP READING HERE. THIS IS NOT YOUR AVERAGE M-C.
This is for me and mine. :)
Because i love her.
But they dont know anything about that, so this secret is safe.
Hands off my waffle BITCH! she yelled as she ran to the garage door. the smell of clementines do not compare to this that lingers behind her as she runs by. Please don't tell my secrets. Im wondering if their meaning has a price attached to them as i run and grab the keys off the wall and jump into the lex. These words blame me. They ask me to stop. They yell at me with a bloody and emperical wish to die. But do not. They do not deserve it. They deserve nothing form me, or you...... Ever.
They say im like a comic book drug obsession that makes you feel better in bland moments and thoughtless days. Maybe this is true. But im trying my hardest, and if thats not good enough for those who seek the answers to my mind, and think they know, THEY HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE. SO FUCK OFF! I am me, and thats good enough for her. So i stay hidden sentences and paragraphs. But read betweent he lines and wonder. Grasp for a second, and oops... You lost it already. I told you. This is for her. Not you.
Not ready to stop prying. ok....
The silence is deafening when you see it. It's raining again. But not becuase its just another one of those sad days. It's raining becuase we are in more than three places at once. It rains from the ceiling onto your forehead and you are in the most violent rainstorm you've ever not seen. But you feel the comfort of love. The comfort of my hand laced with yours. Take a trip to china with me, i can promise i will make it special. But thats not the point of the story.... I dont kiss and tell. Just becuase i don't put prices on secrets. There's no point in trippin' on something you've already had the privelage of hearing... Greedy mother fuckers.
Remember when we screamed our songs into your blanket and put passion into our silent voices as we ravaged the white sheets of your bed. That always makes me smile whenever i hear saosin now... Ok, so that little bit was about you.
I don't know if i like Delilah... I feel like that name means more to me than a piece of glass, and the things that go in it. I guess as long as you remember that too then im ok with it.
Only only a fool with a last word. Pay no attention to me.
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