Untitled

I feel like I’m watching this statue.
And no one has told me there’s a bomb inside.
My close proximity is obviously dangerous.
But there are no signs, no bells, no red paint to indicate anything outside the ordinary.
There aren’t even any people.
Which should make me question what’s happening anyway.
Just staring at this huge presence, you’d think it would be surrounded.
People just itching to capture its magnificence.
But I’m there alone.
And it’s not some kind of poetical alone.
I just am.
And as I’m standing there, I feel unsettled.
Sensing something awry, but not being able to put my finger on it.
I am hesitant to approach this strange, intriguing creature.
Up until recently, it was even considered myth.
Moments like this being all but extinct.
And still I dare not get too close.
Afraid that if I touch it, all my insides might liquify
That cerebral edema will ensue.
Or even worse.
I might lose the ability to progress.
And for that, I cannot let myself step forward into the hands of fate.
On the chance that glory might pulverize me.
Or deliver me completely to enlightenment.

Slurring The Rhythms

Sometimes writing should just be dirty.

A lot of times I sit here and spew all this…crap.

Like:

The peacock sheds its feathers
in hopes of being free for spring

xD That doesn’t even mean anything.
When I’m actually writing, my stuff has meaning. Of course.
But sometimes I feel like I’m the only one following the story.
And it probably just seems like fluffy air.
Even if the words are negative.

I’ve got two distinct writing styles, I think.

There’s the one where I’m like: THE CLOCK TOLLS NOON ON THE CITY
AND I AM FORSAKEN.

And there’s the one where I’m like: THIS NEEDS TO HAPPEN. OTHERWISE SHIT’S ABOUT TO GO DOWN.

Basically the same sentence. The second one just has less fog around it. xD;
I’m tired of being all ldkfghjkdfhg.
And hoping it makes sense to someone besides myself.

It’s about time to switch back over.
Methinks.
__________________________________________

WHY is there always such good music?
Like. Always.
I feel spoiled. Because I obviously listen to all the best music.
Obviously.

I wont even bother saying what I’m listening to today.
There’s just too much.

I bought us a dragon to lighten the load.

Architecture In Helsinki.
I’ve been listening to them for like…a month?
They took some getting used to admittedly. But I think the wait was well worth it.
My favorite songs right now would have to be “Heart it Races” and “Hold Music”.

I wonder how I didn’t stumble across them sooner?

Just. Note to self on that one.

AND. I’ve been listening to fucking Fiona Apple.
And Fisher.
And Details is officially still one of my favorite albums of all time.
Oh, Imogen. You and Guy need to make another Frou Frou CD.

________________________________________________________

Dear SAWP,

I’m not sure if I know how to be vague while still getting my point across.

So let’s just be blunt.
You’re gross, awkward, nosy, and smelly.
You remind me of my dog. Only I’d actually be willing to kick you.

Sincerely,
Oli

Oh, mom. You make me smile sometimes.

Pharmacist: Make sure to use condoms. The antibiotic will interact with your birth control.
Mom: She’s not having sex.
Pharmacist: You never know.
Mom: I think I would.
Pharmacist: There have been plenty of tim—
Mom: For goodness sakes, she’s a lesbian!
Pharmacist: o_o

Shut down, son.

Wanted for Word Hustling

Speak in the fleeting words of man
what you wish for during the aftermath.

A carousel of clever women, naked bodies flashing like lights.

Through clenched teeth he tells me something
like I am the only person alive to hear it
like his sharp breath filling my nostrils
will break down my walls.

Eternity begins once insanity is released
or so the tale goes.

He presses his nails into my skin
shimmering half moons reflect and swell.
This is not a dark story, no
not in the least.

I would like my history books back.
I like to see how men look during times of desperation
how their knees bend differently.
I like to see how men look during times of good
how drunk they are.
The glorified obituary that I am to learn a lesson from.

It starts to feel better when he looks me in the eye.
Sizing me up cautiously
wondering what it is I have to offer.
Why he feels like he just might drown once the ride stops.
Why it is that there are gifts on the ground
strategically placed in a ring around the perimeter.

I am trying to get him to stay
The two faced demon
he is never satisfied.

Title inspired by Buddy Giovinazzo

In between dreams.

I’ve realized something about myself in the past few days.
The way I process information sometimes is a little weird.

I like to say things out loud. The fact that I’m constantly telling people random crap helps me on occasion. It’s like reading something out loud to recognize mistakes in the train of thought.

There will be times where I’ll say something completely inaccurate.
It’ll feel correct before it comes out.
And when I hear myself say it.
Immediately after I’ll say something like: “No. That’s not true. Why did I just say that?”

God, I’m strange.

xD

Sometimes I don’t even finish my stories.
Because after I realize that they’re true, I’m like “Oh! I can go back to being introspective.”

That’s only sometimes though.
I blame it on being a crazy writer.
Can’t keep my fiction and reality shit straight ALL the time.
_________________________________________________________

I ran into a girl I met at a T&S concert almost a year ago.
Only not really?
Well, I mean. We both recognized each other.

I wish I had stopped to talk to her.
She was super nice last time I talked to her.
But I was already kind of late for my 3:20am showing of The Dark Knight.

I’ve got a crazy good memory for faces.

Ty, do you remember her? That chick we met on BART.

I think I even remember her name.
Rachel, right?
________________________________________________________

She will lead us

On the front door
You’ve been subpoenaed.
I saw through your eyes last night
Like blurry inside, and painfully clear
When your mind is a mess, so is mine

Calling out
Not recognizing words when she sees them
Sees ink in a crevice, there is no sense
Only stains

“I feel no pain when my face mask melts off.”

Order in the court
Smile if you mean it, but leave the contaminants
Breakdown and smell the remains

She’s innocent officer
She knows not what she has done.
________________________________________________________

I’ve got this weird feeling that I should be watching out for something.
I hope I’m wrong.

I’m still in an epic fantastic mood either way. :D

Like in the movies. Like on TV.

I feel like I want to be a magician.
You know?
That classic kind in all black and white.
Top hat too.

I want to pull everything I’ll ever need out of it.
I want a deed.
I want a fat check.
I want pictures of all the people I need to meet.
I want a detailed list of every action that would optimize my happiness.

Sometimes I don’t know why I say the things I say, but I say them anyway.
I want a mute button in there as well. One that knows how and when to turn itself on and off.

And.
I want the biggest sweatshirt ever.
I could stick my feet in, pull my arms in, and close the face door.
And I’d be safe and warm in my portable fuzzy cocoon.
If I’m going to shut the world out, I’m going to need it to be comfortable.

Oh, and when that pessimistic streak hits.
I want that stupid hand from the Adam’s Family to pop out and slap me.
And tell me to breathe easy.

Or. You know. Scratch the message into the floor for me.

Sometimes.

I just gotta make myself laugh.

Somebody told me tonight that I looked like a serious person. Just about knocked me over.

I should get the charm out and make someone laugh. Things have seemed so serious lately.
Reminds me of a song this girl used to sing me.

Most things remind me of a song. xD
_____________________________________________________
I really enjoy the hazy feeling I get early in the morning.
It’s like a thousand hiding voices saying:
Take your time
Take a breath
Ignore the rest
Do not forget the sound of silence
Do not forget this feeling of peace
_____________________________________________________

Man, talk about nostalgia bomb.
I’m on my PC right now searching through all my old pictures.

Summer ‘06. Man, what a good time.

I have so few pictures of me smiling genuinely.
When I see myself like that. I dunno. When I look at it, I can feel how happy I was at that moment.
______________________________________________________

I really wish one of my favorite hobbies wasn’t analysis of my surroundings.

I want to kick myself for noticing every small detail all the time.

Monstruo.

Eyes for a killer
She slides the blade across the table ready to make an offer
One more body on top of the board
One more body and still
Nothing.

She looks you in the eyes when she says:
I’ve got something to offer you.
And I’ve got to tell you, it’s not pretty.
I look at myself point blank
And still I can’t tell you what kind of monster I am

Yes, she’s moving on looking for direction
It’s a disease, a cancer that that pulls her
Perfect for the art of execution

And still she cries “Protect me!” as her eyes close
And still her knuckles turn white hot
Squeezing out the life that demands entrance into her veins
She does not want warmth.
No, she’s looking for easy redemption.

She thinks to herself:
Yes. At least I am justified.
______________________________________________________

This has nothing to do with what’s written above.
FYI.

I just realized I’m on placebos. I’m not on hormones.
Jesus Christ. I was wondering why the fuck I even cared.

I turn into such a disgusting emotional tardface.
Ugh. I mean, I’ve realized it now. So I’ve got it kind of under control.
I still feel emotional. I just don’t really feel LIKE being emotional.

Fuck drugs, man. If I didn’t have a condition, I would be off this shit in a second.

I can’t even enjoy my music right now. It’s like every song is rubbing the wrong nerve.
It’s just so irritating. I don’t like that it makes me weak.
I care about things I’ll laugh about in a couple days.
It just intensifies every emotion I’ve got a hundred fold.

I’m totally not even myself.

At least I’m not crying over pizza anymore.
That first week was ridiculous.

Rapid Demolition

I need balance.
What is my balance?

Not-
An old routine.

My balance is 857.79
My balance is better on my right foot
My balance is solitude in the company of others
My balance is notable and priceless

I am holding saw blades because my father asked me to.
I am not violent.
I am in character.