tour

The fallacy is this: assuming that everything will eventually form a coherent and understandable whole. The belief that all these distorted and disjointed thoughts and images will somehow, someday merge into something that's quantifiable and tangible. I am many different people. I am multitudes of the same incomplete picture. And I will remain the same for as long as I'm cognitively aware. The boy who's wrapped up in books. But there is little time left for philosophy for time would be more wisely spent living and loving. Or loving and living. Whichever comes first, and whichever exudes an air of equal dependence. I am an empty vessel. Fill me up with everything you know and cherish and hold dear. For you half adore me and half forsake me. Half fill me up but by that same measure leave me half in longing. And the romantics swoon as they exclaim, half of your heart is not enough. But it is unfair! To compress the world into these little moments where we touch and kiss and rub against each other until our skin grows sore. And the bruises fade almost as fast as the memories. So leave little blue scars on my chest and on my back but never on my brain.

because it brings me back you

Are we leaving or have we just arrived?

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As the air pressure begins to equalize in my ears:

1. I stretch out like a tree and its many beech wood branches whittled down fireplaced in a pile flickering all throughout the night.

2. And all my sketches for all my sweethearts lie unfinished beside sad songs for dirty lovers while the only things you see are black and white and blue.

3. No picture seems to be forming as I'm shaking the polaroid in my hand and the unformed faces plead: let me out because it's hell when you're around.

4. Maybe we should take a trip across Wisconsin with some green-eyed girl and show her that we left our secrets under floorboards and reveries.

5. To live underwater for more than a month:

pomelo

Something that made me smile: Ben on Storytellers telling everyone that he should be allowed at least one love song as a recently married man and proceeding to play Stay Young, Go Dancing.

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There are symphonies playing in my head when I think of you:

I had a secret meeting in the basement of my brain.

Our bones are too heavy to come up, squished into a single cell of wood.

We might kiss, when we are alone, nobody's watching, we might take it home.

She may be young, but she only likes old things.

Lie down with me my dear, lie down under stormy night, tell nobody.

I'm in love with a girl who's in love with the world, and I can't help but follow.

-

doors unlocked and open

dancing

designs with roses all over

tiptoe with soles worn out

children that won't get older

faces

their intricacies won't show

friends and lovers all forgotten

histories lined up in a row

streets

empty with neighbours all sleeping

frozen driveways slick come morning

into our shoes it started seeping

grey

cars and houses and people

from a palette that's gone dry

you hold on to your beautiful beautiful boy

pray

to whom it may concern

mysterious skin half revealing

although you've got no savior to discern

sleep

leave empty beds all neatly made

love or grief? choose one as your reprieve

the other keep, to wear forever on your sleeve