year and counting......

a hymn of history passes across the  table in a stream of light from an overhead fluorescent. in a year lives have changed, but it's all irrelevant now. you remind me of a dead duck lying before me on a table. it's feathers and eyes were so beautiful, that i couldn't let it leave my life. but after many rotting months, it's beauty has faded, and i think it's time for me to throw it out. accept the life i had with it, but it was destined to terminate. realization is a wonderful thing, but accepting is an issue of it''s own.



its hard to say goodbye, especially when you know that a hello will never be the same.

me now i'm drunk as hell, and you wont look at me.
 i tried to ask for help, all i got was a melody.
directions are soothing, when your brain is numb,
lets just laugh it off, cos it's all for fun.

but when you played that chord, it all got reversed
we talked of suicide

and our day of birth

let's romanticize this situation
because i'm getting bored with my own ......

                                             Conception of it

apathetic glances

i never thought you realized.
and i still think you don't.
please, can you open up your hand, and reveal your palm.
i want to look, to feel, your humanness, because i cant make any other connection.
it's a burst of pure joy when your body is within that perimeter of sensory.
but you seem unfazed,
you always do.
so i try to do the same.
it's like a contest, who can hide the best,
who is the better actor.
but i  want you to look at me and reactivate that feeling we agreed upon killing.
well, maybe putting it into a coma
but i refuse to reciprocate those subtle glances of genuine kindness
and retaliate with apathetic glances of my own.
because i dont want you to feel that i am weak, or weakened by you.
but i can tell that you already realized...
..........................................................
you intrigue me with a curiosity that i haven't recently experienced.
i want to know how you live, how you could be,
because,
secretly
i want to be you.
you have all i've ever wanted in life
and if i cant be you, i want to be apart of your life.

so if i start to... be awkward and unkind, please realize that it's me trying to not let you break me.
let your mere presence break me.
i have these weird feelings.
i'm a weird person
but if i can honestly say
you amaze me
and if i can confront you
i would have conquered my biggest fear.

but why?


why should i care so much, if i can't even care for myself?
                                                                                                                 but it's not a big deal

                                                                                   i better just be quiet

Good morning Lullabies

good morning, lilikoi. you´ve got me like the drunken morning after a sober night. throwing up those words that i wanted to say. too bad it´s another day. i´ve got three lovers on my mind. one i made up. one who loves me. and one who never will again. each sing me those good morning lullabies.

taking one more step towards the darkness. reeling back when i see the light. kill me again, one more time softly, maybe this time, you´ll get it right.

Homeless, and loveless and everything in between

a photo blog is what brings myself back to me.

drew chessie, i do not know you.

but your work makes me feel alive
http://www.flickr.com/photos/drewcakes/with/5687679124/

Folk punk, let's fuck shit up!

we've got melody and passion,

 and want to tell you our thoughts.

concertinas and and guitars 

and instruments that you would've forgot.

we're homeless

we're car-less

but our lives are said and strummed

if you've got something important to say

you will surely succumb

emotions and  opinions

other than the usual "fuck you"

come over, 

emote proper,

and we'll give you something new

lullaby's and and lovely ties

and crying melodies

scream your heart out in the rain

"FOLK THE POLICE" 

dirty hands, the smell of moss, the golden light shinning through the blades of grass. moisture.foreign tongues and faint traces of familiarity. oxygen. no one to express my emotions too. but it's fine. i have a pen, a pad of shitty construction paper, memories of being held in your unforgiving arms, and a stick of glue.



this.



este.


este es mi vida.

i really want to tell you to fuck off, but unfortunately, the it's only beginning.

i'm so fucking confused with myself right now.what am i? i want to be me but when i find myself copying others, i feel as if i've failed. my mom likes to judge me whenever i come close to experimenting with different aspects of myself. of MYSELF. i listen to a large variety of music, half of the day i listen to elliott smith and bonnie prince billie, and the other i  listen to appendix (Finnish hardcore band) and leftover crack. and if i dare listen to something either she doesnt listen to, or that she used to as a teen, i'm suddenly fake and unoriginal. i spend too much time with my mother for her opinion of me not to matter. i see her every second of every day, and she's very good at convincing me that i'm fake and lying to myself. that she knows who i am, and me discovering is NOT who i am. i dont fucking know myself, how can she?i dont have any one to talk about this to, nor any reason to leave the house as a break from my social oppression. i feel stifled, like i'm in a glass box, kicking, screaming, and no one can hear me. they just look at me and nod. i dont fucking know who or what to believe anymore, because i dont have  clean record of telling the truth,

my last day... my last visit..... my last embrace.... my last kiss.... my last "i love you"..... wouldn't mama be proud? tomorrow holds nothing, yesterday holds nothing, today holds.... this is what i'v always wanted, right? to get out of here?

Why do i always end up being the bitch?

Sometimes when I feel like complete shit, I ironically go and hide in the bathroom. usually at night when everyone's tired and bitching about this that and the other, turning off the bathroom light and sitting in front of the down is my kind of lullaby. it's cold. the blue streams of night light come find me through the window. usually there are a couple really good zines to read in there.


fuck I could really use a friend

can i feel like a stream of smoke off of a stick of incense....
                                                   raised from the physical world
                                  and feeling free like the air I breathe                  
                                                                                           ?

or must i stay
                tired sick and alone
                                    on the only earth i've known
where i know there is food and water
                                             and a warm couch to sleep.

GO CLIMB A TREE

so i was at the park,in a tree, like any other day. it was so amazing, being in the air, being rustled by the wind with the leaves around me. the sun was beginning its descent under the ocean. a turkey vulture screeched above my head, as it dove to end a squirrel's life. life-and death. to of the most frightening and beautiful things. they're the only things you can be sure of. you never realize how philosophical it is to climb trees. i could breathe in the consciousness of my surrounding, inhaling the air that has been processed from an animal to plant. but from behind me i heard the grass press down from footsteps. i turned to see who it was, and received the most vicious   glare a middle aged woman could produce. to her, i must've been, well maybe, satan? but the look was so vile, i couldn't fathom it against the pure beauty i had just encountered. but why? why was it so strange for a teenage girl to be in a park by herself? why was it so unnatural to her that i could be so possessed by simple wonders? maybe it was the patches on my jacket that made me stereotypical hoodlum. maybe it was that i wasn't with somebody, or that i wasn't doing a recreation activity such as soccer. what could put a woman in such a harsh place towards nothing. maybe i had just caught her at the wrong time.maybe she was having personal issues with her own life, and all she really wanted to do is sit in a tree and re-coop. but the world is too precious to make other peoples lives and your own miserable, so i like to take time to fall in love with my surroundings again

holy flucker

O my goodness gravy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i've got 110 days left on this "heaven" known as Orange County, Southern California! do you know how satisfying it'll be to leave? well, i mean there's some stuff that i'll miss, but like, what? the ocean? yes. my family? yes. the robots who live here? let me think... NO. i'm actually quite stoked to leave the planet for a year - cut off from the drama. no more having to deal with how many more babies angelena jolie has, or who's got the hottest styles. i'm done! while everyone wades in the pools of gossip, i'll be footloose and fancy free! see ya suckas!