sixty nine

I'm trying not to feel lonely
I'm trying to act nice and polite
But when I weigh the pros and cons,
The "what ifs" and "what has beens",
Your face when no one else was there,
Versus your face when she arrived,
I see now
That I must not mean much to you
Anymore.
I didn't say goodbye, and I can't apologize
For your apathy and act like it was my fault,
Because it really wasn't, I'm just reciprocating the vibe for once.
What do you feel like it is?
When you stick your toes in the water, how does it feel?
Nothing but a lukewarm reflection
Of the friends we used to be, I guess.
Please remember me with a smile,
If you care to do that much,
I'm screwing up the lines I'm supposed to say,
I'll see you glancing back at yesterday

sixty eight

Steps to Coping. (For my own sanity)

Step One. Cut off your hair.
Step Two. Talk to one person.
Step Three. Do something stupid. Then forgive yourself.
Step Four. Get sick. Then get better.
Step Five. Pour your soul into something important.
Step Six. Don't accept friend requests on Facebook.
Step Seven. Only hang out with people who make you feel at home.
Step Eight. You can't cope. You can't live. It's okay to know that none of this actually helps at all with the pain you feel.
Step Nine. Try anyways.

Insults With Ben (the part of the show where Ben comes out and insults people)

"You're a butt. Maybe you are sick."

sixty seven

I am sorry
I did this to you

sixty six

I find lonliness in nostalgia.
That's why I don't like to look at old pictures
And think of who I've lost.

sixty five

I'm going to live tonight.
I'm going to live tonight.
I hate every ounce of feigned confidence
In my bones,
I hate the way they didn't care to say goodbye,
I hate this pain that I feel watching you
From across the parking lot.
I hate this sort of okay I'm trying to be.

But I like this Beatles song.
I like some of the dreams I wrote about yesterday.
I like hanging out with Emily and eating m&m's.
That's about it.
That's all it needs to be.

sixty four

I was standing right there,
Didn't you see?
Sideways glances don't capture it completely
But I'm not right in the head
To me at least

sixty three

"But if my eyes were on my back
I know what I'd be looking at"

Blind Pilot

sixty two

People can't hitchhike anymore, they say,
Because it's too dangerous.
Well I think I would like to hitchhike.
It's cheap travel and it's fun.

People can't play music anymore, they say,
It's too loud and wouldn't sell.
Well someday I'm going to play music in subway stations,
And someone is going to notice.

People can't write useless poems anymore, I know,
Because that won't get you through college
And in the digital age, people don't care to read that sort of thing.
This is a useless poem.
I like it.

People can't fall in love anymore, they say,
Because they don't like the girl he would date
And they don't approve of wisdom or folly.
I think someday I'll elope and move to the mountains with you,
And our wedding will be small, and we will only invite who we want to.

People can't give money to the homeless anymore.
They'll use the money for drugs or kill someone someday.
I don't know, honestly.
I just know Arlis, and he isn't all that right in the head,
But he just likes a coffee with 4 raw sugars and some cream,
And that tree over there to sit under.
He has an honest heart.

Maybe I'll live for tonight,
As long as these dreams stick around.

sixty one

I always know too much or too little.
Such as the way I knew you were gone from me
But didn't know how,
While I knew exactly what I was feeling,
So overly aware
Of the thoughts that I was feeding
Every comparison
Stung like a truth,
Stung like a truth
And yet I knew too little
About how I had lost you

sixty

I know two who feel
Just as left behind as me
I think that we should
Up and leave
It all

Just them and me

Maybe it would hurt less
If all the friends we've lost
Were far away from us
Maybe it would hurt less
If all those places we went
Were far away from us
Maybe it would hurt less
If I deleted these pictures from my phone

Will you promise to stay?
Will you promise not to fade into apathy?
Her promises meant nothing
When she faded away
Now I must try to forget all the promises
That I made her;
I can't keep them anymore
I can't save them for better times anymore.

fifty nine

If a song was a promise
This would be mine
But I can't tell you about it
Not while you're not mine
But this song is a promise
It's one solid truth
I won't tell you about it
Isn't that truth?

Since I can't promise much
These words are mine
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
We're both pretty stupid
We're both pretty stupid today

fifty eight

I wouldn't do this if I were you
She was born in June, she was born in June
And she was born with a bit more insight than you
Do you find her in corners that no one else sees?
Or do you see her in crowds when she emerges with me?
You must not know her, her words must be true
So I wouldn't do this if I were you

fifty seven

"You told me think about it, well I did
Now I don't wanna feel a thing anymore"

fifty six

Do I have the courage to forget about time?

fifty five

I wish sometimes she knew my name

fifty four

I am coming to terms with this.
This is the last time I will go camping with her,
This may be the last time I go camping for a long while.
She will soon be bedridden, I would not be surprised
If soon
Hospice will come make our house feel like more of a tomb than it does now.
I am coming to terms with this:
She is dying.
Somehow no matter how long dad cooks the bacon,
It still has no taste.

tonight

Why did it have to be tonight?
Why did I have to choose the night?
My thoughts collide with the car window
And my tears collide with my throat.
If I enjoyed it so much, why does it backfire after the fact?
How can a split second be partial to changing everything,
How is it that I am back and forth between beauty and hopelessness?
God, I don't know how I need You tonight.
Why did it have to be tonight?
Would you care to give him rest tonight?
God, don't tell him I'm afraid
God, don't tell him I'm afraid

This house smells foreign.
This skin feels old.
I am afraid that I will go to sleep tonight.
I am afraid that I will choose the morning.
I am afraid that either the sun will not be friendly to me or the stars will not be docile as they seem, I am scared that they will hear my wish tonight, I'm scared that they will take away exactly what I want or either put it in my hands, I am afraid that my mom is going to die and I will not have done enough to save her while I am busy trying to save myself.

I am scared perhaps most of all
That the fear I don't tell you
Will be the one that comes true.

But don't tell him tonight, God?