Old Habits

22 Aug

1, 2, 3, 4

Light me up a cigarette and put it in my mouth
You’re the only one that wants me around
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you and I

Light me up a cigarette and put it in my mouth
You’re the only one that wants me to die
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you

I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore
No, I, I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore

Jump into your white mobile and runaway
You’re always leaving me behind
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you and I

I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore
No, I, I, I’m not yours anymore
No, I, I’m not yours anymore, anymore

Light me up a cigarette and put it in my mouth
You’re the only one that wants me around
And I can think of a thousand reasons why
I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you and I

I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore
I’m not yours anymore

written by Angus and Juilia Stone

Crooked Bones

16 Jun

She makes me cry
Tears for fears of an admiration so deep
I do know know where it starts.
She makes me sigh
when I catch my breath and thank the cruel dark for
leading me to this light.
She makes me wake,
from deceptive realities without her smile,
to find her, each night, right there.
She makes me break
apart all those crooked bones, set incorrectly, and
helps reconnect me, again.
She makes me leave,
all of the war stories, weapons and wounds
at her feet, and will not let them invade
this new terrain.
She makes me believe
that we are all worthy of something so sweet and
sacred
every
single
day.

Misty Mournings

15 May

Every morning
we open up our eyes together
and release a long vibrating stretch
beneath a tornado of pillows, sheets and heavy blankets.

We yawn and blink
and I routinely smother you in kisses and back scratches.
I reset my alarm for another few minutes so I can soak in these sleepy moments.

These are happy moments.

I am always the first to finally lift myself up
and crawl out into the world
while you wait for me to coax your lazy limbs to the edge of the bed
and lever you down to the floor, arms perched beneath your warm belly like a forklift.

More stretching and yawning resumes
when those big paws reach the cool tile,
followed by the heart breaking wiggle of your stumpy crooked tail.

The house is cold. It always is in the mornings -
so hard not to retreat back into our nest
of memory foam and hand-me-down comforters.

I slip on my chewed up slippers
and grab my hoodie draped across your favourite leather couch,
I don’t even notice those course little of hairs of yours stuck in the fabric
anymore.

You follow behind me.

I can feel your breath on the backs of my legs.
I always know you are right there.
I slide the chain lock off the door and rest my hand on knob for a moment,
twist and pull.

Icy damp air sweeps over us
and we step into the fog.
You suddenly remember how badly you have to go,
and scurry desperately ahead in search of that perfect little pad of mossy grass.

Little puffs of cloudy air dances from my lips as I call your name
into the mist,
you always come back.
Down the walkway we go,
one more time.

Double Tap

15 Apr

Ding!
Imessage, Instagram, Facebook, Glassboard, Voxer, Whatsaaaaap?
Ding!
You are funny. You are clever. You are worth something.
Ding!
My reality in pixels and chimes.
Little green and blue bubbles – 
bubbles containing calculated queries and quotes
in hopes that when looked upon by their eyes, they’d recognize
I was alive and
was
staying
afloat.

Ding!
Why oh why did I not consider the worst
that these bubbles could burst -
the air escaped my chest with every hyperlink pressed
that confessed –
nothing.

Ding!
Blocked, restricted –
I was addicted –
to knowing why.

Ding!
Am I so awful? When did I become so awful?
So bad that a smile on my face or to recognize the place I’ve been –
is not worth knowing?
So awful that I must be deleted, unfollowed –
Tough to swallow –

Ding!
the truth –
that though I tried, I am not a guide,
but a maze of cords and wires –
not worth figuring out.

Little red symbols –
little red pinholes –
that pierced and bled at first
but now
worse –

-
for once my existence was attacked –
hacked –
by those
fingertips.
Abhorred.

-
Perhaps it’s best
that all this is left -
ignored.

 

“It’s better to feel pain, than nothing at all
The opposite of love
Is indifference”

-Stubborn Love

One Love.

7 Mar

Choose
Choose
Choose purpose
Choose service
Choose to be the better man.
Choose living
Choose giving
Choose to do the best you can.
Choose dancing
Choose chancing
Choose to sail the seven seas
Choose breathing
Choose feeling
Choose only the worthiest memories
Choose laughter
Choose ever after
Choose vulnerability.
Choose honest
Choose promise
Hey baby.
Choose me.

I Need Some Liquid Paper – written April 2011

29 Jan

Nothing was ever permanent

when scribbled in a no.2

with a rubber benefactor

to smudge away all regrets

Now I’m stuck with you,

a cool hard shell incased with

a temporary supply of red

black or blue.

No longer are my wishes

wishes but contracts with

dues, stipulations, and

filed away proof of error.

No longer time for shading

various types of grey,

only thick lines allowed –

to keep everything in bounds.

No more sketching hearts

around the visions of love

pure and perfect, not worrying

if it would fade.

No more tracing the

edges of ideas or carelessly

nibbling on the body of a

wooden conductor.

Nothing but hard copies of

reality and records

of unfinished agreements

are collected.

Now, permanent markings

have been made,

and though it was all a mistake,

there remains a  depression on the page.

Overwhelmed.

29 Jan

A Day in the Life…

I make a ton of commitments.
Stress about not being able to complete them all.
Lock myself out of my house.
Realize I lost my house keys.
Definitely do not complete any of my desired tasks.
Somehow smash the top of my head with the hatchback of my car while attempting to slam it in a quiet rage because I have lost my house keys.
Curse quietly about my self-inflicted mildly concussed brain injury.
Realize all my issues aren’t really ‘issues’, but opportunities.
Feel so ridiculous that I even feel sorry for myself for even a tenth of a second.
Realize that we are our own biggest critic.
Understand that I need to cut myself some slack.
Find my housekeys right where they are supposed to be.  In a place I checked probably ten times already.
Vow to believe that nobody gives a shit about how imperfect I am.
Remember that those that count know my heart and love me and all my faults.
Treat myself to a healthy meal and some chocolate.
Cherish the love in my life.
Thank the universe for each day I am given.
Try and get a good night’s sleep.

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