its like doing your laundry

a brand new fresh start.
clean.



the details were in the fabric we left at the door..



we broke down and melted into the sheets..
just whispers and soft hands..
eyelash kisses.


then the next morning came,
and we rose back to the surface of the covers..
sheepish smiles..
akward goodbyes..
a phone number scribbled on a piece of paper..
sunken deep in my left jacket pocket..



good morning san francisco...

the fucking SFPD

so last night we were leaving haight because we had gone and picked up some coals for my hookah. were driving along and theres a cop car in front of us. my friend taylor says something along the lines of "oh no, five oh." and we all laugh and whatever. so we were behind the cop at an intersection. when the light turned green he made a left, and we proceeded to make a left also. as we made a left and crossed the intersection, my friend taylor says harmlessly "I SMELL BACON!". unbeknownst to us, there was another cop at the intersection to our right. and by pure coincidence, taylor happen to have his window down while he said the phrase just loud enough for the other cop to hear him say it who also, unluckily, had his window down also. and as were driving, the copper shines his light at us and then i proceeded to get pulled over by the police. and ironically, taylor says "dude, im so sorry if you got pulled over for my saying that." and of course, that WAS the reason why we were being pulled over. so the cop walks up to taylors side and starts grilling him about saying the word bacon. he asks if we were referring to them and truthfully taylor admits that he was referring to the cops ahead of us. (which really doesnt make a big fucking difference to these two cops). and the cops says "Are you sure??? Cause im pretty sure we made eye contact there and we had a moment" (LMAO) and taylor says no and apologizes. so they grab his ID and go back and run it. by this time im pissed of and laughing at the same time and so is everyone else in the car. so the cops walk back and hands taylor his ID. and then the cop proceeeds to say this: "Taylor, youve got a big mouth. and the mouth of yours is going to get you and your friends in trouble. so dont be a pin head." and then he lets us go.




WTF???????????????????????????
lol.
i was equally pissed and laughing my ass off at the same time.
definitely one of the highlights of my week.

the electric skyline keeps calling me...

who wouldve thought 2 weeks would be that significant
but im still here trying to wash her perfume off my skin.
and pack away and categorize these memories
as something to think about
when i start hitting the bottle
and get all nostalgic about past lovers.
but the sweet taste of her lips just wont leave me.
lingering… like i had just placed them on hers.

maybe we took it too far.
maybe we should have just left it at one night
and never looked back on it again.
but 14 days in and we still had no regrets.
well we had one.
that we would have to leave the shelter of our hotel bed sheets
and join the real world again.
to get back to reality.
to go back to work and the routine of things.

and we promised on our friendship
that we would never think about those 336 hours

but here i am, bearing my heart to strangers
and admitting that i wish whole heartedly
that we could some how exist outside
of the world that we built and called our own…

isnt that how its supposed to be?
or how its supposed to work.
when you find someone you want to spend
your lazy and long days with
just laying in bed
wrapped up in each others arms and legs
and never letting go.
seriously, being happy is not supposed to be this hard.

so why then did it get so complicated?
why are there conditions made and secrets kept???
when its all over, we dont even call each other afterwards.
as though the 1,209,600 seconds never took place.

sigh.
i can say we had a good time.
which of course is an understatement.
as if every night we spent lip-locked while
the world was on the brink of absolute destruction.
and we were trying to commit one last desperate sin
before the impending apocalypse...

im just a boy with bad ideas

sometimes doors are closed to keep secrets out, not to keep them in

ive been thinking lots about people i shouldnt be
lets move away from their whispers and looks
and look at the world in a new way

long live our car crash hearts...

im sore throat singing through the curtain at you down the hall in the dark
youre sleeping or just a good actor
in my head this is the way we've always been
you turn me on like a switch and off like a faucet
me walking out dripping wet
trailing my finger nails against the posters on the walls
slipping back into whatever and being careful to shut the door so i dont wake anyone(you)
but you do wake up
in the bedroom you grew up in
its the only place on this entire planet that is yours(that i was yours)
in your bare skin, bare soul - it was the only place i understood you
it was the only way i ever understood you
it was the only place i ever scared you into shyness
it was the only way i could ever argue you into believing you were a hypocrite
and to treat your flaws like old friends

its funny how i came away from this empty handed
and i winced when i realized that i saw this from the start
especially when you only wanted me for me body and never for my mind and heart
you were just a watered down version of everyone else
like reading stephen king rehashed over and over again
it scared me for a second that maybe what i thought was salvation
from writing songs about heartbreak girls for scene boys to slit their wrists to,
was actually me transfroming into a trohy boy and you into my secrets girl
what scared me more though was to let down your expectations
to have you think that "he's(theyre) better at doing what i did best"...

more then anything i hoped that being in between your arms(lips and legs),
would be enough to remind you of my sincerity when i said
"its a coincidence that you look like her from a far"

iamthedream - youarethedreamer

i wrote this down at 4 in the morning
it didnt make sense then and it doesnt make sense now
but it does make sense to write it down at 4 a.m.

ive never felt so violated before
fighting my way past prying eyes and trying times
im making left turns at red lights
and lurking the interweb more often then usual
this rainy city winter under a stolen hoodie always looks the same...

its obvious im as cliche as "catcher in the rye" (but its the best there is)
i look back sometimes at the things i write and i want to throw it all away
but there will always be those days when it gets bad
and the words just fall off my tongue and fingertips
but when its at its worst, the words are contrite and unavoidably cliche
not that it matters but when posts start disappearing
its just me realizing that im just being overdramatic

i'm looking in mirrors and laughing cause im in on it...

60 degree weather,
out of season strawberries,
spring is overdue it in its arrival,
the (oh)baby blue sky is lacking in luster

girls rule the message board while boys try to hold onto the mike
broken promises have lost their meaning
and so have the random postings of makeout queens and princes of scene

i sat at a bohemian cafe wondering if everyone there was truly an intellectual
or maybe the pair of glasses worn half way down the nose
is a sign that maybe everyone is just as cliche as me(im as cliche as everyone else)

this day is dragging with no help
tedious...
unflinching...

dont make any sudden moves or you(i) might wake them(her)
from their nostalgic conversations about places theyve never been to

lack luster sky
rain
coffee shops
me(you)
her(them)
rainy city winter
catcher in the rye
a personality reminiscent of cut-out seventeen magzine articles

theyre(shes) all the same...

home...
home is where you make it
mine is the five inch spot on the small of her back
the safest place in the world to be...

she always smelled of sex and cigerettes

she'd be a pornstar but the camera is only incidental.
i love her more then pen and paper ever could
but only in increments of phrases and paragraphs
i put her picture in a frame and put it face down
on my desk so she could never escape me again

she bases her selfesteem solely on whether
she can make anonymous internet postings or not
everything seemd like a good thing to say
right before she clicks "submit" buttons
everything seems like a mistake afterwards

there was a time before all this started
when we were normal as we could possibly be
will it exist again?

will she remember my oneliners written on napkins
and passed across the table in the most posh restaurant
a place so exclusive we have life time memberships

she'd be a pornstar but the camera is only incidental
i love her but only in one hour incremements
i stare at the clock in the corner of the screen
and take relief that she's still awake like me...

I sleep with my hands across my chest and dream of you as someone else...

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