"I wonder what you look like under your tee-shirt. I wonder what you sound like when you're not wearing words. I wonder what we have when we're not pretending."
some stuff from later days. I was surprised I wrote this.
the grit between the words is what's been haunting my mind, looking in the crowd for a familiar face or hand, the shivers down my spine meaning nothing. it's the thrumming guitars and the sparks in your hair, and the harmonies and the heads.you give me this feeling I can't identify (with).
sometimes I write words and I don't even know where they came from or what they mean. these crazy blurred words and these landmarking songs, and i'm sick of this style. i wonder if when you grow up you change. like really change. i wouldn't mind it right now. do you know how hard it is to fall asleep next to the ticking of a clock? it is a neurosis-activating action, a bomb that will never go off (grow up). I stop watches. but not in the hiro kind of way. in the way that you just end the day with a stillness that is not accustomed.oh, i'm just bullshitting now.how scared you would to be seeing anything moving at this hour. how tiny you feel when you just look out your window. how the anticipation for tommorrow is really all that's keeping you going.
I feel like everyone I know is turning me on everyone I know.