I just thought this was cute…
April 25th
7:42 AM
7:42 AM
Well you made it. So lie in it. Or
Would it have been better to, our bed of two, to become, our bed of one?
Otherwise, let’s compromise that what once was in our eyes is no longer real.
You can not conceal or feel or steal what was rightfully mine. Because your time, and my time, and this time, and next time will amount to one word. Waisted.
All those empty words we sang are on refrain inside my brain. This pain I will not contain, and I will learn to dance in the rain
and sing words that render us speechless. Needless.
Confess that these eyes are restless.
April 18th
7:33 AM
7:33 AM
a message from beggars-and-thieves
Thanks for the follow:) Absolutely love your blog, your writing is amazing!
Well I love your blog! Thank you!:)
April 17th
10:30 PM
10:30 PM
UPDATE YO
I have been using my journal rather Tumblr lately. I like it. I can be so open and know one knows. I have written two songs in the past two days and all of the words are true.
It’s liberating.
Liberating in the fact that the only eyes that will see it are mine and God’s. And that, my friends, is comforting.
The only two things that have been in my mind lately are breathing and music. Preforming in front of so many people for the first time was exhilarating. I love that feeling. I want it again. And again. And again. I just want so much out of myself and gosh dang I’m going to get it. And that’s the fun part.
I have lost something though. I can’t quite recall what it is, but something is gone. And I don’t know if I necessarily miss it either. Whatever it maybe be.
Something else quite odd, I wrote a song about love. I have been lost in it lately.
Everything around me is just bursting with beauty and energy and life and I can’t help but fall in love with it. I just want to give everyone and everything a big hug, as lame as that sounds. I don’t know how long this will last,
but I guess it’s not waiting to see how long a feeling will last, it’s remembering that feeling of complete happiness and holding onto it, even when you are alone, just keep holding on.
April 16th
7:40 PM
7:40 PM
This dude.
March 26th
4:44 PM
4:44 PM
Rosieeeeee
March 19th
9:16 AM
9:16 AM
Sometimes I look at the top of hotel buildings and decide weather I would die if I jumped off.
March 17th
8:25 PM
8:25 PM
Wise Words From Ben Folds
Yeah well kiss my ass goodbye.
You’ll be sorry one day yes you will, yes you will. You shouldn’t push me around, cause I will, yes I will. You will be sorry when I’m big, yes you will, yes you will. You will be sorry.
Kiss my ass goodbye.
So leaving Knoxville for a week. Not long enough but I’m not complaining.
March 16th
9:42 AM
9:42 AM
The Boxelder
I once hung from the branches of a Boxelder tree,
singing how I loved the smell of her Colorado leaves.
She told me about her friends, Jupiter and Mars,
and how perfectly the orange sky mixes with the light of the stars.
She told me about her roots, and all about how they have grown.
She even taught me how to plant some of my own.
Then something went wrong.
She said all those roses with thorns just want love that never comes, and how the one thing that she desires to do is get up and run, run, run.
Far far away. Away from you. Away from me. Away from us.
She said sometimes when it storms with all that wind and that rain, she wishes the lightening would strike her down, down, down to the ground, and the sound would be the beautifully broken part that everyone had been waiting for.
But then she wondered and worried that if no one was around to hear it, would she even be able to make a sound? That glorious heart breaking sound.
And if no one was around to hear it, would anyone be around to care? Care that she is no longer there?
Standing more tall and strong and free as you or me could ever be.
But she still stands, and I still hang in the rain.
Her roots deep in the earth, telling stories how the dirt is misunderstood and how the owl has trouble remembering names.
And how almost every human heart has this beating, a longing, that wraps and wraps and wraps around your soul and penetrates your spirit and simply won’t let go until you finally take that last breath of life. But yet, in death, it begins a brand new grip.
All that passion underneath so little skin.
A story untold because no one, not even the Boxelder, knows where to begin.
Oh.
