boo-nanza

real haunted stars
beyond the nightmare
bulldozing tucson
harsh gangster with trends
needs
raw street awakening
filling in
assignment scream
bigger music and magnificent house pictures
unconventional superbug eats skinny
american children
on an unpredictable spaceship treadmill
love wrath


UPDATED

real haunted stars
beyond the nightmare
(bulldozing tucson)
harsh gangster with trends
needs
raw street awakening
filling in
assignment scream
bigger music and magnificent house pictures
unconventional superbug eats
skinny american children
love wrath

friendship

ive begun to realise the title "friend" is only a meaningless facade for people to get what they want. im beginning to view friendships and relationships in general as more of business negotatiations than anything meaningful. some are ruthless and conniving; stealing, lying, cheating to get what they want, while others are equal; each persons needs being met. while some are lucky enough to find the latter, most have to settle for the first or have none at all.

is it even possible to achieve?
or is the title "friend"
just another facade
aimed at getting what you want?
i don't know what it feels like
to have a relationship
without the soul purpose
to use or be used

train tracks

Covered in other peoples
Leftovers. They seem so lonely
Going on for miles and miles.
Imagine how it must feel;
Being driven and walked on
Zoom in on one person;
Dragging their legs as they
Walk lazily on the tracks.
Picking up (sharp) broken records
And shiny bottle caps,
That pave the way to
Teenage indiscretion.
At one point the tracks are
Surrounded by rundown
Buildings. The shutters are
Off their hinges, tags cover
The walls. Unlike their beautiful
Brethren, these (markings) are not colorful
And are only meant to mark
Territories. The soggy dirt beneath
The cement stairs of one building
Is covered with seashells. Overgrown
Grass littered aluminum cans and
Empty bottles of whiskey.
A junk yard is on one side, full
Of rusted metal equipment
And car parts from decades past.
Watch the fights break out as
We fly by. Now the tracks are
All by themselves. Grassy plains,
Empty dried out cornstarch
Fields stretch as far as
Your vision. Finally the train
Arrives at the depot. Inside the grey
Building blasé benches line
White walls. Blue tiles,
Vaguely reminiscent of those
In the bottom of pools.

the doll

Behind her button eyes
There is white stuffing
But could there be more?
Does her stitched-shut mouth
Hide secrets?
What would happen
If her limp, apparently lifeless body
Could move?
If beneath her patchwork exterior
There was a beating heart.

UPDATED VERSION

Behind her button eyes
There is white stuffing
But could there be more?
Does her stitched-shut
Mouth hide secrets?
What would happen if
Her limp, lifeless limbs
Could move? What if
At night, when everyone is
Asleep, she crawls out from
The toy box, where she was so
Carelessly placed, and begins
To hum a little tune, one she has
Heard her owner sing so many
Times before. She moves
Guided by some unearthly
Force, dances in pockets of moonlight.
She makes her way to the wooden train
And gently places a weightless hand
On the chipped paint and worn surface.
What if beneath her patchwork exterior
There was a beating heart?

pleading

Saturday, March 08, 2008

The tear-drenched screams
go unnoticed. She's starting
to feel how she used to
Dead inside. Or maybe
so alive that it hurts.
She doesn't care.
She just wants the throbbing
to go away. Make this pain
disappear, She pleads.
To sullen faces and
Apathetic eyes

cope

She hides her tears beneath her smile. The sobs go unnoticed through the sound of her fake, hollow laughter. Each time she hears his name another dagger is plunged into her already scarred heart. It was meaningless, she reminds herself angrily. Why did she get attached? Her journals and poems have all been destroyed. She's found new ways of replacing them. Still, when she thinks of all those years of work it reopens a wound that's in desperate need of closing. She feels that writing is pointless now. She's learned to cope. All she wants now is to be taken seriously. Not used, or taken advantage of, or thrown away like a piece of useless garbage. She's tired of dealing with their alcoholism. Tired of finding no relief. Tired of putting on a smile every single day and pretending she's okay. She has such a heavy heart.

Not spared

The bones heirloomed beneath the lilac roots, the gypsum flakes clinging to their rock companions crave attention, sunlight glinting off, it taps into my peripheral vision, an intruder of sorts. And everything we thought we were, wandering past the lost barrio and into warehouse-land. We’re on the outskirts now, leaving everything we know behind, and the grass sprouting the sidewalk cracks reminds of how we used to be. See through the nostalgia to a place where reminiscing is painless.


UPDATED VERSION

The bones heirloomed beneath the lilac roots, the gypsum flakes clinging to their rock companions crave attention. Sunlight glints off, it taps into my peripheral vision. And everything we thought we were, wandering past the lost barrio and into warehouse-land. In the daylight these empty buildings seem like abandoned fortresses, yet when they are in use they exhibit a beauty, as if they have accomplished all they need to in life. We’re on the outskirts now, leaving everything we know behind, long gone are the days of hide and go seek, finger painting and pointless fights that are resolved in minutes. The grass sprouting through the sidewalk cracks reminds of how we used to be. See through the nostalgia to a place where reminiscing is painless.