Forever sucked, now here's to the future.

Darkness. It's getting darker earlier, I've began to notice. Today's schedule went somewhat like this:
Morning: Dark, cold, damp.
Mid morning: Chilling, somewhat cloudy.
Afternoon: Bright and alive
Mid Afternoon: Dulling down, quite cloudy.
Evening/Whatever you would call now: Wet, damp, cold.
A pattern. Except at the ending, it reversed. Oh, how entertaining. The good things about Fall however, happen to be that there are leaves, and they're colored. The main reason, I've decided. Last year I was too much in a funk to notice such beautiful things. I mean, looking back on it, I probably jumped into a leaf pile like once the whole year. It took until spring for my mood to clear, and then there ain't no fresh leaves.
This year, I'm hoping for the best, come this weekend if it's not so drippy, I shall become LEAF BEAST!

Cosmic hearts?
Who?
Oh naw,
Who gives a fuck.

Pedro the poison.

"The poison makes it's way through my body slowly..." A sound I often hear while walking down the street on a fall day. I say fall, and not autumn. The season Autumn, I find to be a REALLY stupid name. Fall, is the perfect pick on seasonal names. Because that's what Fall often is. Falling. Fallen. Ground. See? There are connections there. I mean, what the hell does Autumn connect with? Some annoying blonde I used to know in elementary school, yeah. Anything else worth my time, no. "...Into the pleasure centers of my brain..." I love fall. I have a deep passion for colored leaves, the brisk morning air. In fall, everything seems in balance, your school depression hasn't exactly quite sunk it's way in to your system, and there are leaves. Gorgeous leaves. I mean, who doesn't want that? So, go ahead, take summer, and here's your filthy spring. But as for me, I've got my fall. "...If you were here I would admit that I'm an asshole..." Walking up the path to my house, I think. I continue to wonder about all of the people in the world with doubt. Insecurity. I myself haven't gotten quite over mine, I question as I stare at the damp road and still trees, am I am asshole? Are you?
"...But now it's over, and I can't stay sober, though it isn't like I've tried." I've tried, and I'm safe. But who knows how soon until I'm nothing left but a jug with a couple of eyes. "...On the front porch, or on an airplane on vacation," So many places to go. "Or out for dinner in a nearby town..." We'd obviously have nothing to talk about. Only sitting there, twirling our lobster with forks. "...I was so proud, just to have you sitting with me," The funneh thing about love, is that you never tell anybody what you always want to. You never just up and say, 'I'm proud, fuck, I love you.' We keep everything all up, until this stack of unsaid sweet nothings we've created just tips over and smushes us. "But now it's over, and I can't stay sober. Pour and swallow, follow one drink with another..." Then what happens? Do you leave and start again, become an alchoholic, you're love the poison? "I'll keep on til you agree to come back over," You start believing they're everything. "...Or there are X's on my eyes." And if you're everything's gone, you die. Simple. The end, now a swift repeat. "Love is caught between the spoken and unspoken," somebody once told me. But, is this true? Or easily fake?

My old man always swore
That hell would have no flame.
Just a front row seat to watch
Your true love pack her things
And drive away.
{The Poison, Pedro The Lion.}

Monopoly, my dear?

I'd like to think, that this game of life...Is all a round of monopoly. Something simple and often silly, where you just get off by buying houses and property. All about cash or something, you know?
I mean, I guess that life would probably SUCK if it was a boardgame...Come to think of it. There'd be no music, no love, no art, no sex. Just buildings. Miles and miles of buildings. Hm, there'd also be money. Lots of money. No banks I'm guessing, just some guy that would live his life to be the banker of the world. Eh...He'd probably get shot within two hours. Yeah, maybe four. Then what would this sad circus world do? Get a new one? Spawn a new banker child? Ouch.
And to all of you that probably wonder about religion in this new life, don't fret, there'd be a God. Duh. There's always a God to everything. Or atleast, in American views, anyway. In this case, your beloved God would be the Monopoly Man. You know, the guy on the box? Yeah. Him. He is so godlike, running around in his little top hat and goatee, chuckling. The vary essence of holyness, if you ask me.

And I like you
While I'm with you
You're you and yes,
I'm me
That's how things go.

Flight for fire

well I'll feed this fire, feed it good i will
pull it up from low ground
stretching till it's high sky

Well we'll all laugh about laughter, then laugh some more
chuckling brings it up
take us soon cause we're all so silly

I began to fly and fly you did as I did too
I began to fly and fly you did as I will too
I began to fly and fly you did as I have too
I began to fly while fly you does as I've been too

I met a man so dumb he saw me
I met that man in dark
The man that met this man I call me,
spoke only of debauched remarks
He said
'I figure we're all messed up as messed up good'
'Noone to see, nothing to hide, silly cushions all below us, our lies beneath the ride"
Our rides
Our lies

I began to fly and fly you did as I did too
I began to fly and fly you did as I will too
I began to fly and fly you did as I have too
I began the flight while fly you does as I've been too.

well I'll feed this fire, feed it good i will
pull it up from low ground
these lies will surely kill

Stall the ink

I was going to post...about exhaustion...But I've got to much homework, and frankly...I'm too exhausted.

*insert normal poem here*

Doing handstands in New York City

Today was a boring day. Even though the my morning started out just fine, I found myself shlumped over a notebook in french class, reciting comforting love songs to myself in hopes of feeling better. Nothing really happened to me I guess, I just seemed to have caught a spell of thinking to much, then demoting my thoughts into a bad mood. That happens to me sometimes. Less this year than last year, though. Eighth grade has been pretty happy so far, and I'm looking forward to not spending a year half depressed all the time. Oh! Did I just give you my grade? Crap muffins, look like I just did! That can be bad news on the internet...whatever. I trust all of my readers. Just remember, Shhh!
I awoke this morning with the sweetest song in my head. 'Bruises, by Chairlift.' But, here's the thing, the song shifts. So if you're in a really happy mood that song will be your anthem; but if you happen to be sad, it's like a bittersweet limb that you cling too. In the morning, I was singing it in the dark room during Intro To Photography. Later, it was my chanting song throughout lunch, committee, and french.
Weirdly enough my bad mood left while listening to 'Hey There Delilah by Plain White T's.' Yes, it's an incredibly popular over-played song, but it makes me REALLY happy. So happy that I'm guilty over it. Using one headphone on Anneke's MP3, it spontaniously played and I almost felt every sad and unsure bone in me melt away. So now, once again, Bruises is the happy song it once was. Another one of my comfort songs. God, I love music.

'I tried to do handstands for you
I tried to do handstands for you
Everytime I fell on you yeah
Everytime I fell'
{Bruises, Chairlift}

And I will love you forever, until forever sucks.

Love, a silly thing. It's interesting, how caught up you can get. How obsessed we all become. Like, you think you know someone, until they get this bf and then you see them with heart eyes. I don't wanna say that the underside of a person comes out when they're in love, because I certainly know plenty of people who's insides aren't quite as decorative, sweet, and lush. But, I'm also not gunna say that love is the cheap beer that everybody tries, pukes out their mind, then awakens in the morning with no acute memory of the experience. That's sex. Love, however, I've found to be something completely different altogether. Like gummy-bears, soup, or chocolate. You can't quite put your finger on how it's so different, but yet it seems so unique compared to anything else in the world. Or universe. Or everything. Anything else in the everything. Huh...

Anything else in the everything
Was you and me with you
I'd love to say you are my everything
If anything's worth nothing else too.

Postponing the homework doing.

Hey I have a scanner! Ooooh, I love homework doodles...Crap, I should be doing homework. Dammit, fine I'll go do that...ugh.

Cracking that procrastination box.

In the beginning of this year, I made a goal for myself. It's was probably a pretty simple one, something that every other teen in the freaking world promises, but never fulfills. I told myself not to procrastinate. At all. Like, not to the extreme where I would go all self-mutilation on myself for not doing assignments set on their given day; but so that I could keep up with work, while not getting dragged down into the muddy pit of boredom monsters. That goal or dream held up for a good week. Because during that week, an arrow to distract my train of thought smacked the straight center of my responsibility castle. Something that distracts, also known as...(BUM BUM BUM!) getting back together with an ex. Or, getting together with anyone for that matter. And anybody that's actually of the human variety would understand that this is bound to be distracting. To some point. Well, I told myself it wouldn't be, and now I'm sitting here being like "SHIT FUCK MAAANNN I GOT WORKK!" on a quite sunday afternoon, missing a birthday party, and still wasting my time blogging. >.< Irony works in gorgeous, sparkling ways...

The pen was dropped
The paper winced
It's sharp tip had hit
A soft spot
In my essay.

Lazy eyes and dusty minds

Oh look, a leaf. Oh look, it's windy. Oh, now there are more leaves. Cool. Wow, they're moving. Huh, I wouldn't expect leaves to do that. Interesting. Hm, it's sunny. Hm, I'm walking. Hm, I think that group of mellacenious people are my friends. Yay friends. They're laughing. I wonder what they could be laughing about. Tony? What is Tony doing over there? Maria, my dear secret love. Her shirt is see through. I like that bra. I should get a bra like that. Note that. Gaelen, it's dear Gaelen! His hair is making many colors. It looked like I could only see the red before, but now I'm realizing that it's mostly blue from this angle. Rainbow-hair, best idea ever. Note that. Archie, sweet Archie. Hah! I pulled his hood over his head...Woah, he has really blue eyes. Freckles. Lots of freckles and blue eyes. Archie would be a fun drawing to color. Oh, I'm being hugged. By Tenor. I love Tenor. Hm, I like hugs. HIS eyes are gray. Amazing. Naturally gray eyes. Hm. A bit glassy, in a sense. I would never be able to paint that. Where did Stasi and Leah go? What? Oh, behind the board. I wonder what they could be doing. Huh, that's annoying. I'd like to hang with them. Oh look, Leaves. More leaves. And wind. Hugs? Yay. Hm, Love. Note that.

Wouldn't life be so much more easier if thoughts were actually like that? Sharp and acute, simple and straightforward. What an easy dream.

'And don't be terse and don't be shy
Just hug my lips and say good lies
And know that I will be your bail bond'
{Insistor, Tapes 'n Tapes}

Mirror's Sharp As I Am Too

I'm putting up a song that I wrote about an hour ago, switching back to more of my previous style. I've been sorta switching around between lyrical styles that are more attractive to me...For most of August my writing took a sudden tilt toward a straightforward direction, not nearly as obscure as before. And I guess that in some ways that can be better, maybe a bit easier to pen, but after a while it gets boring, and I soon stop finding fun in toying with sentences.

In my heart there is a mirror,
Mirror’s sharp as I am too

In this chest I have your secrets
It’ll all blow open once this blood flows through

Rip open my hand
Crack down then start
Old empty pieces flailing
Damned uses of the heart
Damned uses of the heart
Yeah

Picking away at my system
Red swirling all around
Swirling all around
Swirling all around (us)

Because I’ve been thinking for a little two long now,
Waiting for a bell to ring, something’s quite wrong now

I’ve heard the birds
And I’ve heard their calls
But nothing seems to help while I’m stuck inside these walls
Stuck between the walls

Rip open my hand
Crack down then start
Old empty pieces flailing
Damned uses of the heart
Damned uses of that heart
Oh yeah now

Picking away at my system
Red swirling all around
Swirling all around
Swirling all around (us)

For in my heart there is a mirror
Mirror’s sharp as I am too

We’re all just scarred behind the laughter
It’ll all blow open once this blood flows through
(When the blood flows through)

Funneh enough, the song got started when I simply thought of 'inside my heart there is a mirror' and then was like, "Hey! That could be put to use!" and began writing in my August-style, a cute poem/song about love. After two paragraphs I realized, "Hey, lame." and began this. Completely un-edited version, I'm a bit happeh with myself. :)

ORGANICS! SUSTAINABILITY!

Words that could never be so empty...You know, there once was a time where 'Organic' and 'Sustainability' actually meant something. Now it's just like a hollow title people throw around in their speeches just to make themselves sound important. Everywhere you look, there's atleast three people practically screaming at you about organic-ness. No matter what the item even is. Organic tomatoes, organic squash, organic sushi, organic hair-dye, organic toothpaste, fuck man, organic tampons, and even organic condoms.
Yes, I am aware that most of you reading this think I'm just some angst-teen sounding angry and overly-cynical for my age, also probably being the biggest teen polluter and not-care-er of the earth. Well let me assure you, all of which is not true. Living in Ithaca, NY and going to the alternative school of LACS, I'm pretty damn conscious of my egological footprint on this planet. The only reason I bother to post this in a blog is simply because the way these words are tossed around mildly fascinates me. The word sustainability has been stuffed down my throat so many times by now that I'm honestly wondering what the REAL definition of it originally was.
Can words be fads? Is this whole let's-say-the-word-organic-and-sustainability-constantly-instead-of-finding-other-things-because-it-makes-us-sound-hot-and-eco only a thing of the year? Will this, dare I say...Pass? Or, are we all citizens of ithaca doomed to a life of health food and compost lectures? Lord save us all.

All townsmen gasped
Some hung their heads
Their beloved had died
All showered in red

The quick and the lonely, The lonely and the quick.

You've gotta think fast, otherwise everything will pass you by. And if you don't know this by now, then I'm ashamed. We get this messages everywhere. Like when the wind blows and it talks in sweet undertones, when the leaves crackle and you hear there melodies. Or, just when you fucking miss the T-cat bus to downtown because you decided to leave three minutes too late. Yeah, the universe can be that blunt at times.
Anyways, things are just finally picking up after being in a slow pace this past week. It's funneh because I thought that I had all of this stuff to do, when I ended up finding myself at home, bored. So the days lugged by slowly, until before I know it I've got teachers calling me about what kids are in what class, and I've got to get my act together by finding an icebreaker game for Orientation tomorrow. Rawrgh, waking up early and showing around six graders. Nice.
So after doing all of this, I've been a little artistically active by finally opening up yet another Deviantart account. I had about two before this one, but both died. All night I've been setting that up, whilst being caught in the middle of my friend's guy issues.
Gotta be quick, quick...Can't be lonely, lonely...

Jack be nimble
Jack be quick
Jack jumped over the candlestick
But he missed
Dieing in wax.