Heaven stretches before me like a basketball court, with its white lines, metal rims, and a judgment day as hot as black asphalt. My soles slap sweaty on tar, on wood like rose thorns, and the sinews beneath the stripped vines reach out to me, visible and cold from the layers peeled away.
I watch you like he watches me, full of faith and unabashed in the face of fear. God knows no man, I've told myself. God loves no man, I've convinced myself. And my veins shine pale underneath milky glass, and I wonder where along this line of life did I convince myself that I could do this on my own. I spent years searching for these exact same hills, gave up family and love all for curves sweeter than a woman and the richest sort of green. In my memory, it ran thick beneath my feet and crushed crisp between my fingertips. But now that I'm here, it's become a desert to me, the valley no longer cradled and no rolling ground before me. I see only the scar of a burning mountain, a ghost of a Pacific coast, a grave where God used to be, the lie I had come to believe.
But I still mourn for the land that I loved and the life it will never give me, and all that I abandoned for it, and everything that could have stayed the same, the living thing whose breath I took away, and how I'll never know what could have been if I had never left, and how I'll never know if it would have been better if I had never come back, and all the days that I spent wanting something that I was thought was gone, and how long it took me to accept that it was something that never was. All the life inside of it was something I had made for it
the lie I had come to believe.

long live 2013

wtg!

I am not sorry now for any promises made when you looked upon me differently
It is what they all say
It is a truth to create when one lives life indifferently
and we were never really anything and we never really tried
I thought that we proclaimed the truth, but I also knew we lied.

Why should we be any different

Don't trust a soul, it's all the same in the end.

No matter how much love I think I have found, I have never found pure and true UNDERSTANDING. Which makes it hard to believe that I will ever find someone who TRULY understands me, without judgment. Doesn't exist.

I wish that I was different
I wish my hands weren't so old
I wish there weren't these concaves
in such an obvious soul
I wish that I was different
I wish that my bones never ached
I wish I didn't feel it
I wish my bones did not ache.

I wish there was something different

in myself and everyone else.

I never had to worry, and you never really knew.

All I can think about is you
and the way that you carry and ring clear as if I should have already known.
By now, I've already been losing many a good night's sleep over an implicitly vulnerable man.
Maybe this is just what I am
starving through late afternoons just to get an extra ten minutes with you
laughing at bridges and tearing down maps
burying our whole lives below a single bedroom.
And sometimes I didn't know what I had came here for
I think that my warm blood will always itch beneath my skin
and I would take it all off if I thought that it would accomplish something
but you don't even have to touch me to get close to what's inside of me
and with your eyes closed you could tell me what I was feeling, and then you'd ask me why.
It's almost a little silly the way we feel when we're alone, and I can't imagine that something like this isn't a part of what the truth is.

When I was 18, I thought that I knew everything
God, you haven't really taught me anything
Or maybe it's just that I know nothing
I can't tell the difference anymore.

Matthew 23-27

"If anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Messiah!’ or, ‘There he is!’ do not believe it. For false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect. See, I have told you ahead of time.
“So if anyone tells you, ‘There he is, out in the wilderness,’ do not go out; or, ‘Here he is, in the inner rooms,’ do not believe it. For as lightning that comes from the east is visible even in the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. Wherever there is a carcass, there the vultures will gather."

Thou Shall Not Covet/Animal Sounds pt. 2

Wanting more is a pitfall
Some things are better the way they are
There is nothing soft about him--his arms are like stone, his hands are leather ropes, eyes of cut glass, and he's heavier than my lungs at the bottom of the ocean.
But this time, I'm not gonna hold my breath
The air is light inside my chest
and the oxygen in my head helps me see this for what it really is, and you for who you really are
But when I lay in bed at night, I still feel your heat between my thighs
And I can't help but tell myself that I'm what you've been waiting for.

Be careful what you wish for, my mom once said to me
What you think keeps you alive won't keep you on your feet.

hope is the worst thing we can give someone, but i don't regret a thing

I feel you right here almost all of the time

I feel you right here almost all of the time.
It drops to my stomach like I'm swallowing rocks
and sits in piles until I can't get out of bed.
My gut's been heavy for almost a month.
Even when I'm with you, it's never enough.
You are a lie I like to tel,l
a vision only I can interpret, I say, "It makes sense to me."
The things that I imagine seem to be the natural progression
or how it's supposed to be.
But when I put it all on paper, I realize that I'm wrong
I guess I'm falling too fast, and I'm starting to see asphalt.
Cement flies towards me, and I think it has wings
It unfolds like a bed that's been waiting for me
Warm with a lover that's redder than summer
Burns like September, and I hope October
isn't as hot as the blood on the pavement
the flowers of iron the ground's promised to me.
But it feels good to know I was wrong.
It's a relief to cough up these stones.
Maybe I'll forget that any of this happened.
Maybe I will not remember these things

i think i have a heart murmur, because i can feel it. can you feel heart murmurs? well, i can feel mine.

you don't care a bit
no, no
you don't care a bit

body metaphors chapter 25

There's a question inside me
that defiles beauty and hurts my feet.
I've challenged everything I've seen
to sink my teeth in skin I don't need.
I know all the words to the songs you sing.
They're all about girls and none of them are me

and when he moves, I know he's moving.
I find his thoughts when I am sleeping.

I know it's me, and when it comes
they'll hit the ground running, and we'll be the only ones
left alone with our burden
knowledge lost across an ocean.
There's this gift I've been given
a softer spot, a brighter vision

I hate fighting war against myself
because endless battles have never helped.
And I imagine he's not alone now
but we're by ourselves wherever I go now.
And if you can't leave, I'll try to be brave.
I'm not smart enough to change.

I feel heat where I don't wanna go.
It stays in my collar when it runs down my throat, and if the fever spreads
I pray to God I don't hurt you,
but your blood does become you.
It brings out the blue behind your eyes
and turns to wine when your faith dies.

He seems like a separate world
that all loses focus, and I don't want him to know everyone I've been.

cause I've used wood to build up my bones.
and lit the match that's keeping them warm.
I stake my claim before your eyes.
They probably know, but they'll tell you lies.
My lips will bruise when he'll kiss my mouth
while I'm asleep and living somewhere else
despite the men I don't have time for
because of the boys I have to lie for.

I want my soul, and I want my heart
but they aren't speaking, and they're living apart, and when we hit the ground
I prayed to God it didn't hurt you.
But the blood was becoming of you

muddy waters and more similes

his adam apple feels like an engine, the kind i start up when i want to go some place better. his throat is warm and moves like a river when he breathes. i think i can feel the air push through. i think i can taste the light in you.
and because of him, i don't want to sleep. i say it to myself almost every night, i think
i feel this thick like mud like tar
sticky ink instead of blood that doesn't run or flow
but it holds to me, clings like hard rain, moves like oil, melts like wax

i wait so patiently for things to end
but instead it runs like streams, spreads like veins into everything
like hollow webs, it sticks to me
falling, i said i want to sink
backwards against parks and lakes and bedroom walls
i want you to turn me over in front of everyone
i want your salt like the breath on my neck or the mud on my chest
and i'm sure it's what you want

dead skin, blood sucking, dropping out of school
blaming complete lack of sobriety
on the fact that there is nothing when we've never really tried anything
to prove ourselves wrong
i guess i don't blame god
he's not the reason that everything's wrong
i can only blame me
and my complete lack of dexterity and grace under pressure
and every pathetic attempt at modesty
sometimes i don't even know what's happening to me
and why you'll never have to ask
and how cold my face feels pressed against glass
and why when i wake up everything morning, i never feel the same
or how everything is always different, but i never want to change
legs slick with soap scum
i feel this thick like layers like scars
more resin than the oldest trees
bruises like banana leaves
no matter how you judge me
we're all in this together

it's not like i really believe
i can be for you what you are to me
all i see is hope, and i have to watch it go, but i didn't deserve to think things could be this way

suddenly i wake up, and i feel stupid
my dreams are good but mean nothing when i'm lucid
it's just like choking, and i can only blame myself

i wake up drunk and i'm glad you're coming home
i touch your lungs and my fingers turn to stone
and in your eyes you said i'm better off dead
but in your arms, i think i knew what you meant

you had to think
you turned your head, and you thought it over
you watched me sink
you turned my head with your hands to get it over
and i was sick
i didn't drink but i had a hangover
you caught a glimpse
of what it's like if we never went home

it's either me and mine or just yours, and that's fine

like sinking ships

depth ain't supposed to be so quick
like sinking ships, bottomless pits, the sea don't get no deeper than this
blame my remiss
to write an ode, a poem, for a man's lips

what the thought is
is quite obvious
i thought i could reconcile a flaw that's flawless

and i'm supposed to feel bad, but i guess i don't
i gotta slim skeleton like wooden bones
and skin like sails on a pirate ship
or algae clinging to the masts i fixed
i resist
the way my lips push into yours like bike pedals
and muscles stretch tighter than they would for gold medals
the way you break my skin like it was rose petals
underneath the crush of flesh, all my blood settles

and after all the rush of cells, it ebbs away
and i watch the red rush out my face
i can feel the pulse that's keeping me awake
and even though i can't see it, i know you've staked your claim.

24 hours ago

I like to do this thing the day after I go somewhere cool or hang out with people I like, usually when I'm stuck at work or with someone who could care less about me. I like to think every hour, "24 hours I ago, I was here/doing this..." I can't explain it, but something about doing this makes me feel better, sort of even gives me hope. It reminds me that life isn't always this shitty, boring rut I've dug myself into from years of doing nothing. If I've had awesome experiences in my past, then there's only more of them to look forward to in the future. Things aren't so bad, pretty much.
The first time I ever played the 24 hours game was when I moved to Florida for the first time. After the plane ride, I was trying to sleep in a strange bed. My parents and sister were driving on the road still, and I was alone at my aunt's house. Trying not to cry, I looked at the clock. It was 9 o clock at night, meaning 6 o clock in California. "24 hours ago, I was drinking a beer with Matt Burda." Later I told myself, "24 hours ago, I was on the balcony at Big Paul's apartment laughing with Justin Perkins and Steven Roy." Two more hours later, I thought, "24 hours ago, I was hugging Alex Day goodbye." And then "24 hours ago, I slept in my house in Cupertino for the last time." When it finally started to make me sad, I went even farther back. "48 hours ago I was at the California/Nevada state line to celebrate the new year. 48 hours ago I was sleeping in Tahoe. 48 hours ago we stopped at a restaurant on the way home, and I only had split pea soup because I had thrown up all morning." Pushing things away with the concept of time instead of distance made everything feel so much closer. Everything was different, but it was only 24 hours ago, so how different could things really be? I may have been across the country, but I was only a day away.
I didn't realize that time was more powerful than distance. It was the months that separated me, not the miles. The time I lost I'll never have back. I don't know what I blame it on.
I played when I left Florida, too. "24 hours ago, I was petting Jonah. 24 hours ago, Jesse was kissing me. 24 hours ago, I was with my mom."
The last time this happened was the day back at work after my birthday. I was staring at a cash register and thought, "24 hours ago, I was drinking a tall can on Del Mar Beach. 24 hours ago I was in a hot tub. 24 hours ago I took a nap on Roman's couch after smoking a blunt." I'm pretty sure the smile spread across my face in about a second.
Life is so much better than the things we choose to focus on, and the more we remember what we live for, the easier all the shitty things are. 24 hours ago reminds me of who I am and who I really have in my life. I'm mostly alone out here, but really, truly, I have way more than enough.

heart of a young man

We don't "earn" our lives, so why do we feel that we deserve them? Life doesn't owe us anything but the air in our lungs--for everything else, do it your damn self.

hey guys what's happening

Some things
!) We ruin our own lives, period, point blank, don't ask questions.
@) Sexual liberation is a JOKE. Every penis holds me back.
#) Mo money, less problems, less money, mo problems. People are saying it wrong.

I thought this was all over, but it's coming back worse than before.

maannn

I hate it when I do something stupid and look like an idiot.
This might be something very generic to complain about, but it can also be some serious shit.

In other news...
1) School's done, for now.
2) Life's alright, for now.
3) Shouldn't blow things up in my head so much. Gotta take it easy because I don't wanna die from it. Stress, man. Stressin.
4) Super burnt out today, can't even use pronouns. Too much.
5) Making stupid mistakes is frustrating, but I should probably be chill when it happens.
5) I just want this feeling in the pit of my stomach to go away.

if it weren't for all the shitty people in my life

i would probably never feel motivated enough to do anything.

I think it's official

I don't think I could ever be anybody's wife.

Karl Pilkington's rationale

Noise: "You cant escape. It's the one thing you can't escape, noise. Your ears never turn off, they're always there. There's always sound. Like, your eyes, you can close them. My eyes close all the time. If I don't like the look of something, they close before I even thought about if I want to see it or not. Me ears, they seem to be interested in everything, even though I'm not."
"The sound of bird noises are louder abroad because they're trying to get above the noise of the noisy people."
"It's not even as if you can listen to what they're saying and have a view on their opinion. If you hear what people are saying, you don't have to turn the telly off."

Stealing candy: "So I'm getting fifty pence a day for delivering papers, and I need the energy. A Mars Bar is 45 pence. Now if I spent my 50p on a Mars Bar, I can't profit, it's not worth it. So help yourself."

I should wear a sign that says "Awesome idea. Not so awesome consequences". And then maybe you people would think twice.

Not to mention sleep is the stupidest thing we do. I wish I had beast blood so there would be no benefits regardless of where I slept or how long I slept for. It would be rendered completely meaningless as far as my daily activities. I would gladly feed on other human beings in order to give up the burden of sleep. Gladly.

Dear Life

You are super frustrating. Now I'm going to have to get drunk and eat garbage until I kill myself. Thanks a lot...
FOR NOTHING!