misty day

Damp. 6am. Misty morning long ago. Sleeping bags. Brown leaves under foot, dragged in on our feet.

Zip and out. Lake quietly trickling. Ready to go but everyone's sleeping. Desperately cold. Horses and birds appear and disappear.

u are ok x

So many people
So many places
So many ways
You're not as stuck as you think

like you're not hurting

a game of no strings
like you're cool
like you're free
sorry they hurt you
so sorry they hurt you

explicit and flirty
like you're special
like you're unique
sorry he did that
so sorry he did that

smash it up

You smash it up and rip it down and turn it inside out. It's all you know to do.

It was something or anything but when it opens up you smash it down. Don't let it breath! Smash it up, tear it down. Why? Why? When will you do it better?

You smash it up and rip it down and wish it was better. Wish you were better.

Let it be let it be let it be. You just want to let it be and see where it lands. But you find it where it starts and smash it to pieces.

You won't get back cause you can't go back and you could be anywhere now. It's a haze, and it's gone. She wanted the tiny little piece of you where it still shone but you smashed it up, tore it down, and left it gone; with nothing around.

you give yourself away

so you get along and she comes along and you lend her a book and she loves it and you talk and talk about all these things but you hold back by just about two footsteps because you know she's gonna disappear with that other guy because that's what happens so you're separated by about five yards because the closer you get the more you numb out when she goes into a life that is shaped by that other guy who she wouldn't meet if the world was nice but the world is the world and all the connections you feel are just a cruel joke so you get really close to her so close that it's almost love but you keep a distance by about two lengths of your arm and that way when she goes off with someone else into a life you never saw coming you'll be lucky that you weren't touching and that's why we don't look deep into their eyes because it'll be gone gone gone and all the books you shared and words you said were just something she'll remember maybe or maybe not when she's eighty five but until then she's nowhere to be seen anymore

girl in the room

that moment

you realize

it's the other guy

she likes.

they sit there

little looks

little moments

you sit over there inside yourself

and you can't get out

you never get out

you fold over and exist no more

desperado

a little bit
of liking everyone
creepy creepy
what are you wearing
would you ever
wish i didn't ask
not who i wanna be
creepy creepy
at that time of night
desperately seeking

here

you're in that place

you wanted to be

a shiver of life

a sprinkle of happy

a longing for forever

but only for now

you miss her.

you never thought it would happen, you never knew it could. and then one day, four years have gone by. and she's in a photograph, and she's gone, she's somewhere else, her cheeks pressed against another, you guess.

you don't know when it changed, or when you knew, you just know, it's different now. you miss her, you miss all the things you never realised, all the parts of her you never saw, they were all the reasons you left.

you left and now you don't know where you are. she is not in the place she was, she's standing somewhere where the wind is blowing, and she's smiling as the breeze hits the corners of her ears.

the world has shifted, and now you feel the emptiness within.

red and orange nights.

The night crept in, as it often does -- a soft sea of black closing in on the red and orange canvas. The night was as beautiful as any you could hope to see. In the streets outside; there was a beautiful chill and a strange melancholy to the air. A short walk on this particular night would fuel your soul with a decade's worth of desire and memories and hopes. A guy and a girl could walk and talk and feel the magic; the magic that comes when day turns to night, and boy turns to girl.

But everyone was sitting at home on Facebook writing on walls, poking, and 'liking'. The night was missed, and nobody ever knew it existed.

The End.
Of Our Lives.
If We're Not.
Careful.

doyouremembermeatall?

people are missed
places are gone
no-one remembers you at all.

beaches at night,
talking on her step,
walking on the lower east side.

warm it's so warm all the memories are so warm,
they're a movie in your head,
but does she remember you at all?
does anyone ever remember you at all?

three am and you're talking about the world
a smile a coffee a moment
it's all there
it's a lifetime for you
one night for her

you have a top ten list
amazing days and neverendng nights
that make you who you are
they make it worthwhile

i remember you so perfectly
i remember that feeling
belonging
feeling
living
walking home and bouncing bouncing BOUNCING
but do you remember it at all?
or was it just a normal tuesday, for you?

Making My Way Home.

So I always walk that way home, because that's how I get home, it's where I live, if I don't walk that way I don't get home, at least not as soon. So, therefore, I walk that way home.

But anyways, I met this girl and we met up a few times and we had a laugh and I got to liking her and then I text her, and she didn't text back. And I guess, y'know, she doesn't like me, or maybe she's been busy for five days whilst the dog's been eating her phone whilst she's run out of phone-credit whilst she's not-even-looked-at-the-phone-honestly; but regardless, her lack of interest isn't the problem.

The problem is her house. It sits right there, on my way home. The way I have to go, because that is where I live. In fact, when I cross the road - I literally walk almost straight ahead into the window of her house where she lives.

So the problem is this. I walk that way home because that is the way I go, to get home, it's where I live and it's how I get there. But the girl is ignoring me, yet--- I keep walking past her house, in fact, because of the way the road works, I almost walk straight up to her door.

Now, do I ask her to move to a new address? Or am I obliged to find a new route home? Whilst many of you realists will say "it's on your way home so just go home and don't make a big deal of it," this doesn't really sit well. Because, when she comes out of her house, I may be there trundling by---- "Oh, hey," she'll say, "What are you doing here?".

"I'm just walking home," would be my response.

"I saw you earlier on today. And yesterday.."

"Yeah, this is the way I go, on my way home. It's on my way to my house, that's how I get there."

"Right, yeah. Okay. Sorry I didn't text you back, my phone--- it, I don't know, sometimes it just deletes number's of guys and I don't know why."

"Okay."

The moral of this story is, no matter what path you take in life - there will always be rejection waiting at the front door.

Let's Go Shut It Down

You hover in front of my mind - you're an invisible wall between me and her. She is right there, but I'm hiding in here somewhere, and there YOU are, just in the way-- and you're just shutting me down. It's like I'm on Apollo 13 and you're making the hazard lights flash one by one. BANG, your sense of humor is GONE, SMASH - I've ripped through your interesting thoughts, BOOOOM! There's your confidence gone floating away. SMACK, I've just thumped you in the face and taken away whatever meager good looks you had to begin with and now you are left with looking NOT VERY GOOD.

I will shut you down and FUCK you up any time you get near to feeling anything. That thing you feel, DON'T BELIEVE IT, that thing you see, YOU'RE DREAMING. WHAT IS IT WITH YOU? There's a reason I've had you feeling NUMB for like the last zillion years, it's because that's where you belong, in the big-NUMB, because when you feel-- you become like a fucking kid again. Vulnerable as anything. FEEL NOTHING, FEEL NOTHING, FEEL NOTHING.

something? please.

and you feel this thing and this spark and you see the look and it feels real and it reminds you of last time you felt something and you're feeling it again and you see her talking to some guy and you feel jealous but it's great because you actually feel jealous and you wonder what that means and you wonder what her looks mean and you wonder if she's just being friendly or if maybe she really likes you and you realize you're just thirteen years old again and nothing has really changed and you wonder and worry that when you're eighty will you still be this retarded but the girl is so beautiful and this little spark is so nice it's so real it's so innocent and you don't know and you definitely don't know and you know that you don't know and you look for a sign and you read in to what she says and you think about what she never says and you think and you stumble and you hope and when she looks at you wow you feel good you really do and you just hope and wonder and imagine what it would be like if this was actually something.

and it is.

moments as they pass.

i step out into the air sometimes, and feel like i know everything about the universe. not that i really know anything, it's not an intellectual thing, it's just a feeling. maybe it's just the feeling of the wind. but whatever it is, it feels good. it happens if i'm out on my own at 5.37am, or it happens if i'm making my way home in the cold at 1am -- i look up to the sky, see a few clouds, see the streetlights, and everything seems important somehow. it's just a feeling. it comes maybe once every few months. i wish i knew how to hold onto it.

it's that same feeling you get when you go on a holiday for two weeks. on about the ninth night, you sit on the beach and you put your left hand in the sand and feel how real it is, and you do the same with your right hand except you are disturbed by the cigarette end at the tip of your finger. but with both hands, you realize everything is important somehow. and you hear the water crashing in and you feel a bit more alive than you did earlier in the day. but it all feels important somehow. and you hear a beautiful girl in the distance, she's about 19 - and she's messing around by the water with her boyfriend, and you're a bit jealous of how much fun they're having, but you're not too jealous, you kind of love to see them happy. because it all feels so real, and so important somehow.

and it's just a feeling, it's some kind of light breeze that sweeps over you every now and then, and you can't put it into words, it's just there, and something about it makes you smile as you snap a leaf from a tree and fiddle with it all the way home. there's something about the world, something about your place in it. it feels easier than you've been making it. everything makes a little more sense.

the campfire.

and we read stories of people sitting around campfires

and dancing

and playing

and smiling

and dreaming

and we read stories of nights that lasted for days

but for us we

shared files

posted on walls

tagged things

deleted stuff

clicked, sorted, and managed

and we read stories of glances

and feelings

and believing

and loving

and dreaming

and flying

but for us we

thought about texting,

put smiley faces in emails

avoided the phone call

uploaded & decoded

and we read stories of nights that lasted for days

a bucket list for the living.

think, sleep, pee, dream, hope, confuse, run, stay, hide, dive, grab, become, watch, leave, like, love, believe, deny, cry, fight, stumble, demand, take, create, break, steal, decide.

do any of them. do all of them or one of them, just don't write a blog instead.

September.

"I can't remember, what went wrong last September, though I'm sure you'd remind me if you had too." -

John Mayer, 'Comfortable'

September was the month when she got cancer. September was the month that he got cancer. It was late August when he got hit by a motorcycle, but the aftermath was in September. It was a September when she left me. It was a September when I left her. Every sentence is about a different person, except for me. I was present for all of those. September is not like any other month. September has a weight to it. You can feel it in the air. You can feel it as you breath. Relationships form and relationships break. In September, you find out who you really are and you find out who you are not. This is the month when you can lose everything and find nothing. The reward you crave is that someone will say it's October. Sometimes October never comes.

"as my memory rests

but never forgets what I lost

wake me up when September ends" -

Green Day, 'Wake Me Up When September Ends'

The weight is something you can't avoid. The ghosts of September past are here. You can feel it in the air, you can feel it in your stomach. It's why you don't sleep and it's why you don't smile. Your energy is zapped-- you are just floating through the month, desperate not to focus on anything.

In September, the phone rings. Someone is having a scan, somebody is flying somewhere, someone somewhere is doing something. But you wish they'd just avoid all these things and stay in some bunker of safety. Just stay there and wait till September ends, for everybody's sake.

"I had a bad month in September,

October scared the hell out of me.

I got lonely,

In November,

But December's where I want to be."

I'm not going to blog for a while. Take it easy.

nothing.

and i didn't even realise i was lonely. i didn't even realise i had nobody. nothing, there is nothing, i don't have nothing but nothing, it's less than anything.

they don't call me, they don't need me, they don't want me, they don't know me.

it's not even something, it's not even anything, it's absolutely nothing.

and i'm just sitting in my room.

and i'm just sitting in my room.

nothing, nothing, nothing,

i'm doing nothing

not even. ANYTHING.

i'm wasting this day.

i wasted yesterday.

i'll waste another day.

take another bite of me

Yes, I am scared of the fucking dentist. And here's why.

The dentist told me my teeth were awesome for years. I was the boy with no fillings, which was extremely rare. Everything was fine. And then one day, out of nowhere; I was like 14, they tell me my bite is all out of place and loads of panicky stuff about how it will affect me. And I'm like "dude, I don't want a brace" but they tell me I can have one of these ones that you can take in and out. I'm glad they gave me the option, cause I took it out.

Truth be told, I just wasn't man enough to wear braces and be proud about it. Our school was tough like that. So I basically just wore this brace thing at night. But it seemed to work, because the dentist was like 'woahhh, all fixed. Great. Your teeth are now lined up. Sweet.'

And then it was like a year later when I was at some dentist and the panic buttons went off, alarms everywhere--- YOU HAVE NO ENAMEL LEFT!!!!. The dentist said "hey stumbling falling dreaming flying, do you realize you have NO enamel?" and I was like "what's enamel?" and he said "it's important stuff" so I said "make sure I have some" but he said "you don't have any."

"So where the fuck is my enamel?" i asked, he pointed to a little display of coke cans and juices and said, "these things stole your enamel," so i said, "well let's steal the enamel the fuck back" and he said, "you can't, coke steals enamel forever," and i said, "correct me if i'm wrong" and he said, "you're wrong," but i said "i haven't even started yet" and he said, "okay sorry" so i said "correct me if I'm wrong but you've never mentioned enamel to me before," and he said, "no" and i said, "well i'm glad we cleared that up."

So my teeth have been about one fizzy drink away from disappearing for like 15 years or whatever now. And occassionally I'll notice when looking in the mirror that my teeth are eroding, chipping away. And it pisses me off, why did i find out about the enamel thing so late? Why, when I was 12 or whatever, or during the whole brace thing didn't someone say, "dude, enamel. it's bad. stop drinking lemonade."

So i stopped the fizzy stuff and the fruity stuff and all that stuff with acid. I got hooked on tea. Tea had the glorious caffeine and it didn't make enamel die.

So i was like 17, and it was a really grumpy age for me. I've analysed the reasons closely and found that the reason I was grumpy was because I was 17. I said, "do you have something i can take to make 17 less painful?" and he said "yeah, turn 18."

So anyways, I went to the dentist and he said, "you really need to stop smoking," and i said, "but i don't smoke," and he said, "that's funny, but you must stop smoking, your teeth are disgusting." So I said, "mate, you'd better shut your fucking pie hole," so he said, "okay, but you must stop smoking" and i said "i don't smoke. If you tell me I smoke one more time i'm going to tell you to shut the fuck up," to which he replied, "stop smoking," so i said, "shut the fuck up."

So he scraped away at the brown gunk that had clung to my teeth. This guy was supposedly a professional dentist, you'd think he'd know the difference between cigarette shit and tea shit.

So i stopped going to the dentist. And now, like, my teeth are fine, kinda. But they're getting a bit small, i think i grind away. And the enamel is evidently fucked because my main teeth seem to be ebbing away. Delightful. And my smile comes with yellowy-brown-tea-ness. Usually, when a girl says, "keep your mouth shut," it's offensive, but with me they just find it more attractive that way.

So I hate going to the dentist because I feel like they'll make shit up that I wasn't aware of like, "oh my god have you been watching the BBC?," and I'll say, 'yeah why?' and they'll say "the BBC causes giant flammable tooth decay!" and then I'll have to deal with that too.

Suffice to say, I've not called up a dentist for a date in years. Until today. My appointment is next week. And it's an NHS dentist, so i get to do the whole british healthcare thing. At least I can. Unless of course there is some kind of dental death panel with Adolf Hitler sitting next to Stalin and Obama. But then, that would be kind of amusing, especially if i could convince them for a game of scrabble.