eight

that's when i hear my guitar singing
and so i just start singing along
and somewhere in my chest
all the noise just gets crushed by the song

(ani)

it seems that the words
i come up with
aren't ever so good
as the words i hear in song.

music
makes
more
the soft sweetness
of lulling lullabyes that just
tear
you
apart
emotion needs a soundtrack
because that's the only way
it's fully expressed

and so i play my guitar and i hope for something
more
some way to get all of these things out of me
that just don't come
but i can only find it
in other songs
that are not mine

seven

i
need
you
so
much
closer

(death cab)

six

layton likes
tv shows.

five

we drove to
the city.
everything moving
silent
like frozen static
we stood on
the bridge and
we owned the world
we climbed on statues
walked through empty
parking decks
those straight streets of
perfect plants
repetition
and sometimes when the light
shines bright in your eyes
you see things differently
and everything
becomes the one world
you always wanted it to be

four

he
came
back.

three

i listen
to music
and cleaning my room
is ok

two

the heat pushes
down
on me like
a bucket of steam
sort of like a celestial dog
is just breathing
all over my face.
i ride around in my car
with the windows down
as fast as i can go
and still
the sweat drips
and sticks
and melts me

i miss that cool air
running through those mountain ranges
where you always bring
a
light jacket
and a pair of socks
just in case
and the sun shines high
in that stop-you-right-there blue
blue
bluest sky
and you think
how did those clouds get to be so
absoultely
picturesque
and you never complain
about the weather

one

today i am nineteen.
nineteen and all the years
between don't seem to be years
but more of just things happened
and not happened
everything is just one
i am everything.

i don't want to pretend
like i am something special
pretentious pricks
that's not really my style
(at least when it come to poetry)
and so i'm just jotting down
some stuff

i read a poem today that said that
all poetry really is
is thoughts broken up in different lines.
and i think by that, they meant bad poetry
and i think that's what this is.

so, hi.
this is an answer
to all of the poems that well up inside
that i never write down
because i don't feel like they're really worth
anything.
and this site is free.
i mean, i'm not even having to buy paper.
fuckin worthless poems.

maybe
they'll get better with time
and you'll see the progression
of this artist's work
the stages of development
the evolution of thought
or maybe i'll get bored with
writing poetry
and move on to my next phase.
crocheting?
trying to play guitar (again)?
birthing children?

i mean, can you ever really know?
i should have divided that
up into parts
to make it
seem
more
profound.

happy birthday
to
me.
i'm awesome.

(but actually
if you want to
get
technical,
my birthday ended
about an hour ago.
i guess
i'm not
awesome?)