crash course on death

I'm always hiding underneath the waves, or chasing the clouds away with flailing arms and a baseball bat. One foot on the ground, and the other who knows where. My head may be stuck in space, but you'll never catch me thinking about death.

This is a crash course on freedom, because even a lifetime isn't enough to explain its complexities and definitely not enough to know all its simplicities. This is a crash course on drawing blood and giving it away to the world. You've got a heart of gold, but you've broken it up and forged it into all sorts of pretty trinkets. That'd be okay if I ever saw you giving them away on street corners.

And right now I'm going to do something catastrophic, so you may want to pop a squat and fasten your seat belts. I'm going to put both feet on the ground, and it will send ripples through the earth and the tectonic plates won't even be able to handle it. I'm going to ponder death for a moment, I'll ponder it so good.

The way I see it every single one of us has got one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.

Death isn't that subtle, is he?

trumpets and xylophones

I wonder sometimes what I did to make you so bipolar around me. One second you're leaning elbows on my knees and the next you're leaning away - eyes averted, bitten tongue, stiff muscles and crossed arms.

You make me feel uncomfortable, but that's not a bad thing. I'm scared of putting my head on your shoulder, and that's okay. I'm scared of your embrace, and this is a good thing, really. Can't you see that means I care in intimate ways that fool others of indifference? It's hard liking you, but that's a glorious thing and the future will have written songs with trumpets and xylophones about this unrequited love.

I close my mouth and think too much around you, now that's a bad thing. Horrid, really. I should tell you how it aches to see her running petite fingers through your hair. Because one second you're leaning elbows on my knees and the next you're leaning into her hand - eyes closed, lips quirked, at ease and completely smitten.

to you

Hey, you.
I just wanted to say that I could've sworn there was something. Maybe you missed it, or maybe I was just getting my hopes up again, but you don't go for midnight swims with just anyone. And I'm packing up all my things and putting them in cardboard boxes just like I've learned to do all of my life. I read somewhere once that long hair intimidates boys; for that reason, I've been aching to cut mine. But you told me not to, and somehow that gave me insight to a million different things about you and about me and about how I'm starved for affection.
I was wrong, I guess.
I got my hopes up, I guess.
A nice trim will do, anyways.
It hurts, but it's time to move on.
A nice trim will do.
You and I are not to be…
Why isn't this ever easy?
Sincerely, me.