Update

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In one lifetime, there are lots of things people do that they wish they never had. But as long as you can find a box to throw all your old memories in, they won't interfere with today. As long as you remember to lock the doors.

Things change constantly, and no matter how miserable the world looks, sometimes you have to wait out the storm. Marvel at the rain while it falls. It's a memory you won't visit too often. And these kind of things can not be forgotten.

I'm done here. I've been done for a while. But borrowed time is still time. And the places you go to, after the show's over, won't let me in.

I think I've gone away again. But this vacation isn't like the others. I don't know if I'm coming back. And it's really alright. Because borrowed time is still time. And I hate being in debt.

September's nearly over. October isn't really my favorite month either. But every silver lining's got a touch of gray. I like gray. And I think I rather like this cloud.


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Now playing: Plain White T's - Hey there Delailah
via FoxyTunes

Excuse # X

It's never really deliberate
It just ends up that way
I guess that's true for so many things
I wonder if God could use that excuse


Note: X is unknown.

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Now playing: R.E.M. - its the end of the world as we
via FoxyTunes

Reasons

How can I feel if I can't breathe?

It's dark. And I know it's all inside my own head, but how does that make it any better? Questions, questions, questions. So many questions.

Once upon a time, curiosity killed the gray clay cat. Satisfaction brought her back. But she was never the same...

I don't like making little sense you know. But I'm not wasting words. They bleed. And I am left holding up all our shattered glass.
It's only a problem because it leaves me with no free hands with which I could try to stop all these words. And I can only watch as they escape my mind.
I would tie it all up with ribbons, but I lost them.
All of them.
Maybe it's better this way.
I don't think they were ever mine in the first place.

Why?
(Why not?)
Because I choose to.

Evening

The golden rays stream through the barely green trees, illuminating the dying leaves as a last helpless tribute to the glory that was once theirs. Now, all that's left of the forgotten days of old are these dying giants, dwarfed by the mass of ugly concrete growing all around.

I lie here, on this gray roof under these gray skies, burning through with a guilt I can't understand and a sense of fast fading responsibility. There was nothing I could do. There is nothing I can do. Not anymore... I would have liked to burn bright and fast, like the falling embers from this last cigarette. Instead, I can only unravel, my thoughts bleeding into the heavy air as I try to hold on to memories it would do me well to forget. I fade, a dull reddish scar from an injury so long forgotten, that even the birds don't remember.

And I wait for the dark...

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Now playing: Pink Floyd - High Hopes
via FoxyTunes

I Wonder

If you can still dream of dead people, can you dream a dead dream?