I Wrote something

I wrote something.  Actually, two things. Two poems. I’m gonna go work on them. Edit. Edit. Edit.

I need legal pads and post its.

“I know this world is killing you” (Elvis Costello)

Oh it’s so funny to be seeing you after so long, girl.
And with the way you look I understand
that you were not impressed.
But I heard you let that little friend of mine
take off your party dress.
I’m not going to get too sentimental
like those other sticker valentines,
’cause I don’t know if you are loving some body.
I only know it isn’t mine.

Sinking like a stone

What’s it really getting me?

There’s a moment in time
And it’s stuck in my mind
Way back, when we were just kids

Cause your eyes told the tale
Of an act of betrayal
I knew that somebody did

Oh, waves of time
Seem to wash away
The scenes of our crimes
But for you this never ends

Can you stay strong?
Can you go on?
Kristy are you doing okay?
A rose that won’t bloom
Winter’s kept you
Don’t waste your whole life trying
To get back what was taken away

My New Year’s resolution was more a attempt to do something I’m good at even better. I don’t know, maybe it’s the walking, or the movies, or something I’m doing different, that I’ve realized that while my full intention was to be the greatest asshole I could be might not be my best choice in the world. Sometimes ghosts come back into your life to make up for all the shit you did in the past, not to fix something that is to come.

I think of Alice as my Dr. Prashar in this case and I’m simply Dr. Pincus sitting on the chair looking up at the ceiling listening to the final piece of advice my college has for me: “At some point in your life you’re going to have to stop and ask yourself the ultimate question: This business of being such a fucking prick, what is it really getting me?”

I think I need to rethink my idea of what is important to me in this world and push away the bad and be happy for a change. Because I can’t continue to walk down this path. I’m getting old; it’s getting old. I probably have no reason to be writing this. A lot of you probably think I have no right. The other day, I passed a church and thought how much easier it was to believe in the past and just kneel and pray. The thing is, even in those days, I felt empty. No matter how much I have, I will always feel empty. I feel empty and scared and no matter what I do it’s always the wrong move.

What has being an asshole gotten? Less friends and being less trustworthy, that’s what. Don’t respond to the post.

Saturday’s Song

Clocking the round time
Dropping the face we make around the battle lines
Well, it’s a part of why we’re cruising the new show
Crossing the path to places you wanna see