do you know something I don't know?

"I wanted to drink, I wanted to dance, I wanted to love you, I wanted a fucking chance."

-- kid canaveral; good morning.

bruises.

you give me all your bruises, and i think i thrive, these purple little movements.

our night/for now

as doctor who says, Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstasy and the joy and magnificence of our world... and here, in this infinite night, with no work tomorrow, and having just seen toy story 3, which was really quite beautiful in itself, some small kind of closure that I won't try to overwrite it. but I don't understand the crime there, in saying something was powerful, and beautiful, and just it caught in my bones, and how could I stop it from there.

I am listening to I watched, as you disappeared, rhys marsh and the autumn ghost. It crackles, and swims together, into this night.

I will one day create something great. But, for now, I am creating every single day. And the few people who, feel these, and smile—that's all that matters, for now.

all of the vaults.

you're pretty with a fault, slurring through your kindness, spat in secret, boy of the vaults.

it's hard to move you.

"you're barely getting by, you're never satisfied, open your ears and shut your eyes, it's hard to move you, when you're dead inside, this emptiness in your eyes, can't impress you when you're not alive, why do we even try?"

-- a thorn for every heart; it's hard to move you.

...collision

And then I am some magnet, and my charge is their charge, and we destroy each other, or the spark, or anything.

majorcollider

I want to start my project. I want to contain my anxieties about it, about what people would think, and laugh, and smirk silently. I want to do that. So I am doing something that is going forwards. I want to stop being sad. I want to stop that. I am sad, I guess.

Don't you ever feel like the wrong end of the magnet, that that you are positive, and everyone else is negative. And they are meeting in book stores, and in violence, and in plastic cups. And they all ignite a little spark, and you can feel it all around you. The more you look, the more sparks there are to feel. And for once, you wish everything was still. But that is bad, because how can you hope for happiness, if you deny others theirs. I always struggle with that. I hate myself for that. Because I really do only ever wish you well. But my own wells are all drained.

Too fucking slow. Too warped. Too ragged. They pass, and my fingertips repel them. I couldn't get any closer.

paint stripper.

i think i'm really through with meeting great people. i mean, i am meeting them, and i am wishing i was not. great people carry colours, and those get stuck all around me, and when they leave, i'm emptied once more. but they just don't take their colours back, they strip away my paint. and right now, i'm giving them too much, always too much. they'll reduce me to a couple of pickets. and i can't keep them away, just pickets.

i don't want to accept this silent world. and i don't want to write my noise. i want the whole damn fucking harmony.

not really awake just.

the cat strides out from the coffee cups, the boy with the ceiling all around his ears, the mess of sleep and cutting light.

falling through doors

we only want the mud on our shoes, a vice cut through this stillness of night.

ecstatic beauty

art moon.

that took in too much colour, and ran now dizzy. where are you, mooning chaos? do you come?

sunflowers, flickering

Big question, but, to me, van Gogh is the finest painter of them all, certainly the most popular great painter of all time, the most beloved. His command of colour, was magnificent, he transformed the pain of his tormented life into, ecstatic beauty. Pain is easy to portray, but to use your passion and pain to portray the ecstacy and the joy and magnificence of our world, no one had ever done it before, perhaps no one ever will again. To my mind, that strange, wild man, who roamed the fields of Provence, was not only the world's greatest artist, but also, one of the greatest men, who ever lived.

Doctor Who

when love speaks/stumble on eyes

When love speaks, the voice of all the gods make heaven drowsy with the harmony. 

William Shakespeare

a fire

Some weeks just lack colour, a fire I cannot fake.

This week is one of them. I cannot remember it, to think upon it. So, no movement with the project, and no thoughts, or ideals. They are there somewhere, just below a spark.

23

(this was a letter. but I feel it may brighten a few extra darknesses, I really do hope. but it is for 23, because they are amazing.)

so, you basically gave me a license to romanticize, over the top, all. you may grow to regret that though I choose to believe/hope you will not. and I just watched a grey's anatomy episode, and I am listening to 23, and I just had the strongest fucking urge to write, to let you know, whatever this is, however small, however soon, yeah. I just had to write. like, colours coursing through me, that means I don't have to keep my knees pressed together, because it's okay, and I don't have to pull my sleeves up over my hands, because I am safe, and these actions may be tiny and weird and other people do them and don't understand why that even matters, but yes, to me, they're important. they're my tells. anger is another of my tells. that lets you know I am bursting with feelings for something, big stupid happy feelings. saying absolutely everything, the way I feel, no games: that's another tell. which, puts you on a winning streak.

I just, I wanted to share, because when I am like this, I can write fucking planets into existence, beaches form where I leave my footprints, everything pretty and dark and distant, quiet and understanding in that. because I wanted to use this, and make you a morning, a day, to smile, a smile. My greatest work; just one smile for you, for tomorrow, understanding that every single day is hard. It's a fight. But every single day is also blessed, wracked with the infinite, pained in brilliance. I know that much. I feel these things, big illusive fish. They splash me, and sometimes I drown a little. Or I swim...

You need to help yourself, because there's so much more you deserve, so so so fucking much more. We never let go of our darknesses, because they make us bold in turn. But they can't shackle us forever. So, I'm going to stand on the edge of your darkness, staring into that night sky all 'round you. Except I'm friends with the darkness, I can slip a twenty in it's pocket, make it leave you alone for twenty minutes. Maybe not now, it may be rude to interrupt. But I can.

But, I believe in great things, shitty laughable things, the white in your bones, colours in your head, signs. So, I think, it has to be... 23. Maybe when we're both 23, you could finally see me through the darkness, and meet me there. I could mumble, and you could stumble (I don't like that that rhymes.) We don't have to wait forever.

But, the task at hand, more importantly. I gave the darkness a fiver. And I got this smile. And it's for you, for tomorrow. I hope that it finds you. I gave it to the light, to pass along (but light has a complex, what with everyone on it's wagon and all, and keeps what it finds, sometimes. But I'll put it's light's out if it does -- I think that's the phrase.)

I'm here, I'm now, I'm ready, holding on tight.

the more I look at lightning

are we closer here?

tomorrow I am meeting 23. of course, this was already supposed to have occurred, but not everyone can keep their tiles like that. and, yes, once more, I could not be more limitless. I just wish it were already six o'clock, tomorrow. and I just wish, a spark into existence, remembering names.

I need more words. I need to be less tired. It is frustrating, closed tongues and jars.

the cold rests before

In this quiet afternoon, where we come to stop, and what should we be, but what we see.

I am never really sure. I tend to absorb what comes close. So it is really tough sometimes, to remember, to hold on, to hold out, to not take in knowledge.

And I am really interested to know: are you fine in yourself? Because, it is easier for some, than others, and I am always wondering, every time I feel bad.

I need a great boldness, when I put life into a latest project. I think the four winds are coming this way.

I was staying awake.

night falls, down the last of our sighs, sleeves trickling out the door, slower, all burning brilliance, the sooner state of tomorrow.

city paradise

your winter.

hang me out like you haunt me, i still wait, sick with silence, 'cos yeah, I believe in big smashes, the best of bruises. well, you spit poison at a glance, when I'll never really care, let's stay loud, warmed with all you swore.

your movement.

you should stare at the clock, break your clock, come find me in the middle of nothing and nowhere. let sleep lie for one night, just neck lines, fingertips on fault lines. get your coat, your keys, your hungering chaos. come find me, come ignite with me. come be consumed, come soothe me.

long live the king is. dead the.

your youth is ash, a cigarette of ghosts lit with that stare, struck with salted words, fasting the throne.

free before them.

make it ugly and loud.

to jump

When you ask a person to jump, his attention is mostly directed toward the act of jumping and the mask falls so that the real person appears. 

Philippe Halsman

astronauts of the flame.

they say it's calm, like our stones aligned all in time, but your planet smashed into mine, upon these palms, braving lines across the universe.

I will be your bad teeth

everything is amazing, even if it's just in this small room, and this hot mug.

and there should not be a limit on the amount of times you can say that.

I can't focus again, but believe me, I am happy. I am keeping my feet pressed firmly together, fighting the cold wash of the tiles, watching coffee mugs and spilled papers, dry knuckles and smiles that they do not know i am making.

when my dad talks calmly to me, it fills me with so much hope for myself, that he did believe in me all along. I know it is easy to say these horrible things, but sometimes, it's true. my greatest fear is not being good enough for him, the always fear, for all of us.

but what are we doing here? we are just slow and secret, and we're finding it is real.

I am overwhelmed with the chance and possibility, that we're going to keep each other, safe and warm and believing.

everything is going to be alright, be strong, believe.

hahaha!...

You walk in from your mother's balcony, panda eyes, freezing cold. You bury yourself in my chest to warm, I notice the goosebumps on your arms, millions. And whether it's because of the number of hours spent laid face down on my bed listening to white noise or, well, obviously it's not, I somehow manage to translate them from Braille. And each raise in your skin spoke more to me than the reams and reams of the half finished novels you'd leave lying around all over the place, and every quotation that dribbled from your mouth, like a final, fatal, livejournal entry—I know. I am wrong. I am sorry. 

Los Campesinos!; This Is How You Spell, "Hahaha, We Destroyed The Hopes And Dreams Of A Generation Of Faux-Romantics!" (spoken)

fortunes.

and maybe you'd come soon, stealing the pennies sold to pensive eyes, the ballasts and ugly treasures, tricked from the milk of unkindness, beneath the treaty, of halloween skies.

speeding. breaking. holding

i want to write a mess, i want to record a blur. is that a colour, or a sound? i want to put structure to today, a paragraph i can punctuate, adequate with pulled skin and shine. i was happy, i am happy, i will be happy. but i want to write a mess.

i think i wrote that arguments and anger build up and i should try to let it go. also, you should try to help. it all gets very confusing and then i catch on fire and i scream and i scream. and i guess i really am not helping. but then, all amounts of anger are misplaced sadnesses, that lost the contents of their pockets, and they really needed those contents... (i also strongly dislike that both happinesses and sadnesses are not words in their own right. i have many happinesses, and many sadnesses. it feels wrong to colour them any other way.)

but if i focus, my sister is sad and angry. i should... i tried to help. then i started to burn up, so i slowed down. she's got fingers in her ears and they are very sharp.

then i thought about different people. or how we are different. i'm still always judging you for being so normal. i feel so badly for that, i keep slowing down. it really doesn't affect me, and noticing that the pattern exists, does not help. so i should just give myself to that particular madness. if you take your shirt off, people will stare at you. if you lose a limb, people will also stare at you.

...but we don't really much listen to anything.

and tonight i wasn't sure what speed i wanted to go along as at all. i think this is just the other half of all my happiness. it swings around and knocks me down and balances out quite nicely. i am in ____. and completely lost. or no, i could not say it was complete. i think i just need to physically touch. otherwise things become ghosts, and then i feel strange. like i am back at the very height of passion, dead on the floor. in love with circuitry, and no more sparks. it's... i am a shark and you hold no more blood. i need your body and your bone. need to know it's all different.

"we'll be breaking hands and holding blankets."

lions feet.

just because you leap once, doesn't mean you can't leap again.