“fuck clocks”

i was thinking of maybe smashing my clock
smashing it into the ground, i would never miss it!
i live by the damned clock, it winds me
and in the morning it chimes me, until i smack it!
i don’t particularly like the clock, it’s ugly
i live my life in 15 minute increments, tick tick!
jesus fucking christ, who needs clocks!
and now it’s so early in the morning that i can think of nothing
nothing except the exact amount of minutes until it will chime me
right now i’m down to 5 hours and 3 minutes
and then i wonder how much a person should sleep
but that doesn’t really matter because i can’t!
oh terrible terrible terrible terrible clocks!
if there is one place man has gone wrong it’s with efficiency
there is no reason i should be awake
i should be sleeping
when the sun goes down i should be sleeping
when the sun awakes i have my silent buzzer
birds chirping, wind rustling, come on now
that is how it should be
but i can think of nothing except when i shall awaken
and what exam, and book, and tests waits there for me
5 hours and 1 minutes from now
fuck clocks

so i sighed a sigh of regrief
my home isn’t my home anymore
i would sit watching the seasons change
i would travel away and find the floor
where my home was and still is
only without my feet upon the old foundation
no more chaos in the building’s bones
just an old building with a weak back
twenty years trampled through time
just to feel excitement and keep it well
she had a song played to her before i left
it wasn’t a hard night, long night neither
her grown two sons sat singing to her
and she cried when they sang about her
and so she gave us each a piece to keep
deciding it’s best to stay home
and let the midnight catching dreamers
drive away beneath the sun
so that she could live inside them
and the oak trees could dream forever

“new cake”

you’re beautiful, i find you to be beautiful
why won’t you talk to me like you talk to others?
am i asking you to speak to me? and you only talk?
that’s alright if that’s the deal,
but shouldn’t we have a discussion about it?
it’s weird that it doesn’t bother you like it does me
i mean, i know what it’s like, you’re just living
it has nothing to do with me, probably
it’s just a hierarchy, a pyramid, your priorities
that’s alright if that’s the deal
but you know, i’m telling you, it’d be fun
seriously a lot of fun, but maybe it’s different
maybe you’re different,
like a second layer?
like frosting that looks great
but then tastes sticky and sour
makes your stomach hurt
and you end with a half-eaten piece of cake
and a stomach that hurts
and you don’t know why it was all a wasteful experience
but in theory, equally bad for both
so whatever, in theory you could be good frosting
and i’m still an optimist, you know?
i was hoping maybe for an experience like when
the slice just jumps out at you, and your mind is made
drop a buck, got your cake, everyone’s happy
cake is good, better than it looked
i mean, not to say you’ve had any bad layers so far
i can develop tastes for things, you know?
but seriously, i really like some of the layers
so anyway i’ve been considering it all
sort of soaking it up, sorting it out
you know?
and i’ve decided that you should take my advice
you know?
or maybe your interests are somewhere else.
yeah, maybe
well fuck,
“hey!
hey!
new cake!”

“will to love”

i can’t sleep, it really bothers me when i can’t sleep
as the time neared closer and closer to three a.m
i couldn’t help but listen to “will to love”
some music really takes you someplace doesn’t it?
you know where this takes me?
to early mornings driving through the hills of old castle
coming back to my home, after falling in love all night
to mid afternoons taking the 91-E onramp to long beach
turning north towards pasadena, pulling into arcadia
then late late nights, terribly late nights, like this one
smoking a cigarette, rolled maybe, maybe a medium
i felt then like i was in an exotic land, dozing off
knowing that summer was close, skylar closer
sort of wondering when i was going to wake up and call
ring back to home, say that i just happened to take a drive
a ride to los angeles, just to travel to a terrible place
los angeles morning sun always feels like hangover sun
light up another cigarette, figure i’ll wash up at home
then drive away, tottally confused but feeling better
maybe better that i neglected the better people
and ran off into the city of the smog, a crack in the earth
lost in snow and drowning in rain,
never feeling the same again
just one of millions all the same,
but somewhere someone calls my name,
i guess i’ll never lose the will to love.
i won’t.

The Little Self

So I have thought a lot about friends lately. A friend of mine stopped in to hand me some music today. He said he’s had some trouble. I guess the trouble is with his instrument, he says is that it’s too pop-y. I suppose his worry is that the music will be the same. He says the trouble goes further though; it touches upon women, civil liberties, all those things which are so meaningless until you don’t have them. Not having them isn’t always terrible. It’s only when you taste freedom, like a well lit cigarette; or really love someone, and then look into their eyes and wonder which one of you is captive. When the well lit dream is pulled away, or her eyes try to spin herself and hisself into some sort of it’s never been that way; I suppose this is when things really hurt the soul. It’s not the body that is hurt, it’s the soul. It’s that sleeping self inside of your thoughts, who you whisper to in nervous moments. That little self that says you can or can’t; or makes you worry; or chants a sad song with you until he dances, and then you’re free. Then and then that devil dances, and he’s beautiful when he dances and chants. he tapps his toes in such a peculiar way that it almost makes you believe it’s you. Just you, sitting alone on a chair, looking outward upon all the stares. These passing strangers, friends and family. They’ve never met that little whisperer, that’s how you know when you’re looking outward. I suppose the only thing to do then is laugh. What a bunch of bullshit you and that little fucker go through. Just you and him and everyone else.