Solitary Penman

The End Has No End

"Said I can do a lot of things but I can't do that"

|

It sounds like my droopy new mornings that still lazes itself very slightly.

I have no obsession for anything. Like I have no obsession for you. I just have the possession though, of a less-than knowledgeable intent to disguise myself behind apprehensive remarks. And I deliberately forge myself as anybody ...that won't remote to myself so you won't have to bother comprehending. I just really appreciate it when I start going off into a second-person tangent, but I never know who the second-person is because... I don't direct in specifics anymore. You are the second-person in my head that responds when you feel like it. Curse me when you feel like it. And lecture me when there is nothing else to say. When there's really nothing to say, I turn to myself. And the nothing broadens more than it was at you.

I have countless unsent letters.

_

It's OK that I'm Jumbled Up

The First Single

"What's the point of going around when it's a straight line?"

|

I think I've been semi-happy lately...
So semi that I might just even talk about my day. Like I ever do that.

Like I tended to mention today, I lacked in good judgment. I'd decided a skirt over warmth, even knowing that I'd suffer.

We had a substitute for Spanish, and feeling a little like some efforts and stress had gone to waste, I was still relieved. I recognized her. The same teacher that the students had once referred to as the hung-over, club-going, ...prostitute. The youths are cutthroat.

I had the same, eerie vibe from her. Bird Lady. She shuffled with her hands limp in front of her. Hair of a disobedient stack, and heeled-shoes that, for some reason, bugged the hell out of me.

I spent the rest of the class thinking to myself how to put words in a tangle.

The rest of my day was a glad gloom.

Brunch; They all had haircuts. That really made my day...

When I stepped into Algebra 2, my tingles wouldn't die down. Though I was slightly palm-sweaty about my overall grade. But I startled myself silly when I came to find that I had a B-. I walked out of class grinning.

French is great. Highest grade in class.

Lunch was a blur of many nothing. I ate a muffin like a rabbit. A very sloppy rabbit.

I was even fine being in English.

AM/PM after school with Ace, Dean, and the two Viets. Purchased ice cream happiness and shared with Val and Vanessa.

I speculated the guys' choreograph their dance, but grew restless. So Dean walked me home, glad of his company again.

My show ended. The day was simple.

And I'm feelin' fine.

I guess I just felt like typing.

_

Part II; 26, September

Skies

"And I never had to be alone again"

|

Last night was The Night. The Subtle Way.

Once I was in the car, with my hearing still a fuzzy function from the shattering volume, I could tell I was going to sleep happily.

It was.phenomenal. We were all at the front, the height of the stage just above my knee and I was scraping right to the edge. The constant force behind me was so encouraging and my energies couldn't help but be pushed to the limit. So, when the five familiar faces set themselves on stage and I heard those very familiar songs, I let go.
Hair of lengths and colors were flailing with my own. Heads throbbing with heat and we all slithered in each other's sweat. It was like fucking in replicated paces with everyone in the crowd.

I was having one thousand different thoughts as I jumped and punched and shook away myself. It took the strength of that angry, passionate, living togetherness to complete the pieces I was searching for.

The breathing was unbelievable. I was invested in searing inhales and outhales, but I felt I needed that or else the night would've been a desolated pursuit of a conspiracy running on a half-empty tank of gas. And I needed to bleed from my mouth, elbowed the top of my head and the sides of my face because the physicality let me believe it was possible and it was real that I'd reach such heights. I was thrusted and groped for and at every angle, but it compelled me to react right back.

I'd never felt so comfortable in the most awkward, infinitetesimal space in these of times. With Kim dragged right along, linked right by my side.

And we we're just a small part of the living night. Behind us was the extension of the force that smashed us between energy and motivation. But we were right where we were supposed to be.

It was once again a limitless night.

Thanks to Kim and Subtle Way

_
This was [Part I]

"Satire, Irony, Burlesque"

Hold My Hand

"You'll never know I'm after you"

|

The sky seemed inexplicably bigger today.

I don't know why, but I couldn't stop looking up. I felt like a child, visiting some new environment, observing every little detail and wondering about every single one. It astonished me, because I've walked that same path enough times that my embedded foot prints could some how be found, but it's never looked like that to me.

I wanted...

to lay myself down on the street, tracing to find the end of what I'd imagined a wrist with endless questions. And I breathe like it was the first time I'd surfaced above the water.
Hm.

Through out that whole walk home, I was reciting poems to myself. It was the most tranquil I'd been.

Not quite happy, but content enough to keep on coasting by.
-
My English class is a.fucking.drag. I wish I would learn something useful, substantial. Instead of having pointless preaches that never seem to make any sense. I don't think my teacher has any idea what she's talking about. So the class has no idea what they're talking about. And every brain in that room dumbs down by 10 degrees.

"I have never let my schooling interfere with my education"
-Mark Twain, existentialist.

_

Scorch

Unintended

"But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before"

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I desire...

_

Timing

Spritz!!! Spritz!!!

"The weather's been fucking with us non-stop man-"

|

Probably one of the last warmest days, and I wore sweats. The past days that I've been wearing a skirt, it'd been freezing.

Neither luck nor mother nature seem to be on my good side. How unfortunate.

I am mathematically incompetent, hands down. I'd sat in my Algebra 2 class for nearly 14 days, and every day I'm above with the clouds. And even when I've got a section down, it only takes a matter of two or three numbers, seconds, phrases to confuse me back to knowing nothing. It is frustrating.
Every day, I try to get to a conclusion whether to even stay in there or just leave. I could always go back to Geometry, but who knows how I'd do there. I could fail just as miserably. Currently, I am living off of Tyler. She's the foundation of my life line, always behind me, literally. But that's really not what I want...

I want to know. I want to know how to know.
Hmm. Kim mini-tutored me today. She's always taught me well, and with our little session, hopefully I'd pass my test.
Enough school talk. It makes me think of college. *shudder
-
Back to timing. Ace had brought up the ridiculous, bad luck I have with time. We we're on my porch one afternoon after school, awaiting the homecoming of my mother and brother. I knew where the key was, but I'm a sloth. So we sat, her unknowing we'd had a way in. And I began to tell her the story of when I'd been locked out with my friend and siblings. I told her my attempts of breaking the bathroom door, and my father thinking the next day that someone had tried to rob our house. I told her our ingenius stick-gum contraption with the garage door, and my brother crawling through the doggy door. She said I had bad timing.

I became restless, and decided to get off my ass and get the keys from our...very secret hiding place. Right when I got to the door to unlock, I heard the garage door open. My mother and brother were home.

She said I had bad timing, yet again.

Hm, I just felt like a rant, I suppose.

MUSE
_

Avoiding Work

Miracle Sun

"We don't wanna be left alone, no"

|

I keep thinking about everybody. Someone new every few moments, always someone unexpected. I don't know who I fell asleep to last night. But it wasn't who I usually fell asleep to. This is something.

I'm probably reaching some new phase. These weekends for myself always changes a few millimeters, every now and then. But they seem the longest, giving me enough and more time to think through absentmindedly. I guess I have homework to do.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, also known as the American humorist and writer, Mark Twain.

How interesting, Twain is said to be the victim of "love at first sight". With the modernized way of living we seem to be in, it's hard to believe in love at first sights. But who am I to judge whether it was that easy then? There's just so much corruption of everything now.

I'm debating whether or not it's as blissful as it sounds. The perfect example, Romeo and Juliet. I remember reading the story my Freshman year and being so aggravated and annoyed. How can two people be so stupid and selfish? Every action, every decision, they just wreaked havoc all through Verona. I thought it was a sap story, and I never understood the impacts it made. Maybe this is just me being bitter, but what a selfish story! Romeo was in love with Rosaline before meeting Juliet, supposedly. How can so many things change with just one glance? And in the end, suicide was the last of the options.

SIGH.

Sometimes I understand the rashness and irresponsibility. This is the thing we call romance, right? The concept MCR wrote about and The Cure, and I loved them. When loving someone so much... it just concludes you to insanity. And insanity can be portrayed in so many ways. In these old-fashioned cases, bloodshed is part of it. Sometimes, it's marriage. Hence Bella and Edward.

It's one of those times when I realize just how bitter I've gotten. Even the best of the romantics pisses me off. Aha, that makes me laugh a nervous laugh in my head. And it just gets me sad...

Whatever, so I lack some romance now. That used to be all I was about. But now, I don't even look for it. I don't ask for it. The past gets you scared, I guess. When everything leaves, how can you have enough energy to go through it again?

I never was great at admitting it. I just end up asking myself the same thing.

So, what now?

_

Crawling Back

Burn Your Life Down

"Pulling pieces of it out is such a waste of time"

|

I just want to lay myself down, and stay in that position for uncountable hours. Too bad there's always something.

I'm too near the wall, or I just slide off, or it's too damn cold, or I can't see my floors anymore. Sometimes there's just nothing to play, nobody to play with. So I avoided my room all day.

I'm sorry I didn't attend the party, after mentioning I would. How's a bouquet of balloons sound? Maybe some other time. I finally found a weekend for myself since September began, yenno. I just wanted to test it out. The outcome is maybe why I'm so sorry.

Always snoozing. And I'm thinking about the next winter to come. I can't find myself somewhere warm though. And not just founded by the choice of my wardrobe. Just a coat would be nice.

This is pointless.

SIGH
_

Looking At You

Ex-Machina

"Overproduce me.. hoping for a dramatic change"

|

What are you suppose to say?

The phone rings some considerably late hour for my stingy eyes. I adjust my voice and language, and listen in.
I couldn't see this time.

The struggles in your structure hadn't sunk in to me till I was late, as always. Awkwardly standing face to face, glancing away and back. Away and back again.

All I did was look and concern.

When he'd bent his head down and broke away to what I'd thought he refused to reveal, I followed him right down.

What are you suppose to say when you're as helpless and more, as him?

I sat in the pained position I recognized, and cooed at the cement, trickling the helplessness.

I remembered him saying, "I shouldn't be worrying about this right now..."
I read the creases on his face, the breaking of his voice. He asked me over and over, and I knew he never meant to ask me.

We sat what seemed like the longest of minutes, swallowing what wasn't in the days prior to today. The silence just drags, and I knew he didn't expect anyone to say anything.

Because what are you suppose to say?

I watched him away, dreading it now like he does. I could only imagine what could be going through him.

Roads shook the aggravation of burning rubber, my heart thumping up a beat I hadn't expected. I don't know why I imagined his face then. He hadn't expected it either.

Maybe you're not suppose to say anything.

So I didn't.

_

Drained

All Along

"But you did and I wish you well"

|

I sleep eat talk walk see lie drink write and breathe.

What else.

Anyone else that has anything less to say?

_

A Too Gray, Too Bland Now

Mandala

"What happens when we reach for each other?"

|

Mmm, autumn feel. It's silly because every time I remember how I'd felt when the breezes gave me especially stoned goosebumps, with the sun an orangey-yellow setting beside me and I'm walking home with the most comfort I could find, I was happily sad. Sadly happy, what ever would work.

I remember myself smiling a physical gesture, but the raw aching in my chest was hard to neglect. No matter how elated the moment was, and how my face stretched in ways I couldn't feel, my organs were still wrenching.

I don't know why I can instinctively flash myself back to those moments. It was cold, I was cold, and no one wanted to be touched.

Green's voice sounded just of that. I just can't remember what he always told me...

_

I Won't Miss it this Time; I Have an Alarm

Fever

"I just stopped listening to your story"

|

I guess I got over it in half a second or two. That's all I needed this time. It's easier. Or it's whatever.

I like nothing more about school than my French class.

Cold mornings, after noon heat. It's pissing me off.

I already miss summer. Or I just miss Leo in my every days.

I fed Beh flan, Jon ate cheese dogs.

My after school activities.

I have nothing meaningful, or...un-meaningful to say.

_

Hiding Musical Violence

If Ever You're In My Arms Again

"This time will never end"

|

A splint and some bandage, better than ever.

I just had one of those nights. Animated and alive and I feel good. The ones you wish wouldn't have to end, even if you know that's not possible.

I think this aches a little

_

Kindly Acquainted

Stop the Fucking Car

"Cut me gently, cut me out"

|

The morning is too far to remember, too cold to like, too tiring to feel nice. I'm ready to shut off.

I don't really want to talk. I don't really want to see faces. I don't really want anything real.
I keep my arms and legs folded in molds that seem to keep me at peace around human contact. So that seems to be working out for me.

Why was I so over the top when I got home? I feel fine raising my voice of the second, but never the third second. I slugged the rest of the way and hoped I didn't have to uncurl.

The fourth minute passed and I gladly missed the first. And if you want, I'll miss tomorrow's. I've missed every day anyway.

Wait for my hands to thaw, and they warm and soften. I would've never guessed me to be something.

Not really.

_

Seven Seven Seven

Here Comes A Regular

Just seven days. I can't believe it.

I'm burnt out already?

7 out of...some 100+ days.

o_o

Seven seven seven seven seven seven seven

7

7 Days Later

Down and Out

"I don't ever want to see you again"

|

I wrote about paper.
I wrote about its planes and lines and its future scrawls, and how plotless it feels to do this. It always feels plotless doing this.

Nothing comes to mind in the morning except for the next name I decide to be. Anyone but myself.

I don't want to sleep and dream dreamless blurs I never remember. I don't want to wake up and face the next nothingness of the hours again. And again and again. And there is never anything. Never A N Y T H I N G.

I need a fucking reason.

_

Anesthetic Never Sets In

Automatic Stop

"I said wait, I'm gonna give it a break"

|

I pretended to whistle today. I wonder who heard it.

I always hated sitting here, fiddling with some linty rubber bands or feeling up the keys. I feel quieter than I should ever be. I feel warmer than I should really be. I just feel sick.
-
I want to find a reason to tell someone something.

But there's nothing to tell anyone.

Just a few secrets that I know shouldn't be told. And I'm just not sincere enough to put myself in heat and clammy fingers.

I don't feel anything.

_

Et Toi?

Dear Child [I've Been Dying to Reach You]

"In this short time we've been spreading in"

|

My feet indicates I've been bathing in the sun enough. But when the hell did it get so cold again? So soon...

Rien.

No matter how fed a day's planner seem to report, the little details and the big picture just seem to fade in a manner useless of erasers.

A hallway walk is enough hazard that if I turn a corner the sharp point would writhe my intestines inside out, all the way long the pressure on my heals. I push against heavier than necessary, as if emphasizing the very steps I take to make sure that someone would look from a corner and point me sharply either of nonchalance or a second thought. But as I make my second thoughts, the pressure just seem to evacuate as if surrendering the perfect execution of someone that someone could never be. And I drag on from there, drilling through the pavements of courtesy and vulgarity.

I found a path home one day, trying to escape the pretentious chortles of the past humor. Face muscles are only as strong as you push that supposed happiness you should have.

But I only find that I didn't want to come home just yet.

I didn't know where I could even possibly be...

_

No One Ever Sits Down Anymore

The Only One [Mix 13]

"Yeah it gets better everyday, I say"

|

That's a lie.

It's all too mundane, too ordinary. Like a gray film with the predictable plot and resolution.

Every day I lose color. Every day growing more anemic and burnt and frail, and you know it's just about time to fall apart.

Every day there comes more births and birthdays and I still bother to play with heat just so I can play with more heat in another world. And every day I gain more shameful mouthfuls.

The songs of one morning will be the songs of the next morning. While the songs of night sound utterly unrecognizable from what played the night before.

This.is.not.what.I.intended.

You are nothing extraordinary.

I am nothing extraordinary.

I am nothing.

"You're nothing."

"I'm nothing ?"

April fell asleep.

_

|

It's so damn easy to miss you.
_

Peek & Seek

Wait Until I'm Gone

"You always were so good to me"

|

I caught myself in the middle of a lecture, dropping me down to my skull that I am trying to make sense of the first, the next, and the last thing I see. The first thing I hear. The next thing I feel. And the last thing I think.

I add in vowels, scrambling and re-scrambling and puzzling back together. Consonants just don't mean a thing with out a purpose, right...?
It's silly, because I cannot even find an atom of a sense in me. But I continually strain myself to dig for answers that I could never find. Because I won't let it find me.

I won't let anything find me.

At least not anymore.

I've been under the pillow, under the covers, under the mattress for months, and disregarding the auto-pilot, I can't get myself to get up off of everything.
Sometimes I open a hole through the sheets for myself.
And I close back in, hermit-krabbing through something I'm running from. I just don't know what yet.

I'm not exhausted and I hardly sweat it out. The person in front of me waves me a flail, only to find glassy eyes and a flagrant yawn that seem to repel and forget whatever the next thing you'll say.

So how is it that I try to make sense of it all? Because I know I can't.
And it's too irresistible to leave alone my [can't]s.

It's too irresistible to care as much as I used to, but no one could ever know that.

I'm interpersonally intrapersonal.

_

Stupid; The New 'Hella'

What ever happened?

"Oh that's an ending that I can't write"

|

What a warm day, I keep telling people.

BODY HEAT ! BODY HEAT ! I keep yelling to someone.

They keep touching my hair, and I just want to give a good strike to limp up those arms.

Temper, I keep telling myself.

You can't teach me English, I just want a notebook. Trust me with the rest.

Bonjour la classe, je m'appelle Ange. I have realized that I've always imagined myself to travel, and I now have the biggest desire to. I want to. I have to. I will.

I can't tell you how I couldn't sleep last night. I can't tell you anything that would oblige you to tell me something in return.

I have Tyler's rice paddle, and I cut some floral skirt.
I stole Henry's locker, and Ace left me to take the bus myself.

_

A Novel of Two Words

City's Summer

"The city's summer smells like perfume"

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The perimeter of my eyes are stinging and eager to sleep and pretend that tomorrow, morning would still be more impatient for me than ever.
But I've got something else waiting.

I had a day of my life that highlighted the already warm glow of the past 2 months and a half.

The sun's burning green now and ever, and the floors are invitingly comforting.

I am exhausted from fighting the rushes of blood that seem to ocean away a dazed, empty desire.

It's time for me to decorate some shoe box and shove everything that will be impossible to wilt away, even when it's all out of sight.

I'll miss that voice.

There's nothing more than the memoir scriptums of my drive way. Today's the day, like every other day. Like tomorrow will be the day.

Aimless, Unorganized, Retreat

Sunburn

"And she'll burn our horizons make no mistake"

|

We are infested with ants. Crawling and small and repulsive near lunch and dinner. I make ridiculous death threats to their families and leave lying bodies by their little hole, sneering and swearing.
Ammonia dashes like teargas to eyeless runaways.

Knows the motif, climbing by my wrists to shoulders and leaving the scratch because it was never there.

Knows I'll leave, surrendering to a minute reason to step me outside, out to the air that makes me sense everything around me.

Knows I'll question, right to where I sit, as I stare at a couple, packing? A day so blue that even a jogger would jog by a greeting, as I concluded the couple for a day out.

Knows my reflection there, I'll analyze, and critique and see the disarray of my hair, looking more like who I should be by the day.

Knows I'll come back in, nothing out for me but the moment of solitude I hadn't willfully chosen. I can't bring myself to think so optimistically, not even to Hello day.

But it never knew, that the march in front of my eyes, would send me to considering action and consequence even more potent than I'd seen before.

I'm not logical, I'm not rational. I'm insane and rash. And quite masochistic, too. But what the hell does that leave the marks that I could forget in about... oh, three more blinks of the eye.

I guess I was just, looking for an excuse to tell someone something. Because these days leave me alone in an empty, echoing cave, with the roof caving in. And I don't know what to say to the echo that relentlessly tries to get me to tell all my secrets...

_