pity rant

humiliatingly blatant acts for attention
can you still love me?
i feel ashamed
i need you
then go away
but uh, right now love me okay?
i'm just feeling pitiful, no big deal.

peolpe hate me
think i'm needy
judge me
i do the same to others
i'm selfish
selfish
selfish
i dont deserve friends
soon they'll realize
i'm no good
i'm
so sorry
so so sorry
i'm sorry for being sorry
okay now i'm being annoying
oh did you say something?
i wasnt listening
you love me?
stop, ew

trick

so tall you can't touch my panoptic vision
my guard is up but you know i'll be watching
try to climb my tower
i'll let down my locks but you'll get tired of the climb or i'll drop you
arms length is the sweet spot
but who am i kidding?
can't marry you so just marry the sea
i want you to know me but i know it's a miss, miss piggy
the emotional eater
fuck that.

Lyrics to "Paper Hearts" by WHY?

WHY?

PAPER HEARTS

MUMPS, ETC.

To be born as anything but this: the dying wish of a dinosaur’s dish; of no use, a shitty gift, like a single slipper. I go diffuse in city quick, like the Little Dipper. She’s cute with little titties and a sense of humor, but to tell you the truth, sir, I pity the poor fool. Her, fruitless in a holster and clueless in a kiss. I’m older than death, vulgar with unfresh breath.

During sex, I might put us in some joke positions, but it’s scary always how we end up in missionary like the daring men who fight to submission, barely conscious there to care about the split decision. Your sour thoughts you wield at me, you ring out your melon, but it yields only drops, like an unripe lemon. All a man can understand’s your bad intentions. The less you talk, the more you draw and seal an ending. Keep leafing through the glossary, sittin’ there, puffin’ weed, telling me repeatedly all the things you wanna be.

The thug’s just a boy, once my money in the bags. Is your love but a ploy, like Bugs Bunny in drag? I leave my lungs open, exposed to the whole crew while you sneak a bump and smoke cloves in the coatroom. Itching like a local ho, wishing like Pinocchio. The wind is at my back anew, but still I feel the lack of you.

Oh, you were so heavy in my heart, Boo, that soon no longer could my true heart hold you. And like the angular Etruscan tchotchke my mom got me at the Met gift shop in ‘92, tearing from the brown paper bag I kept it in when it was new after I left it overnight and it was wet with dew, it sounds blue and shitty, but of course, kid, like the little skinny bronze horse did, you fell through.

You were like a buoy I put down in open ocean, but with no cross-staff and no compass in my possession, and too far out for a lighthouse to provide discretion. How could I presume that you’d divine direction? Must have patience, accept no imitations, take no paper hearts and fuckin’ hate carnations.

Though my home is vacant, yeah, I’m lonesome while I wait. That’s no open invitation, mate, to hope we make acquaintance. The long walks home from the laundromat in Pop Pop’s Holden Caulfield hat, alone. Lost for certain, dry and pent, dead-bent like a Merchant Ivory gent. Yes, to yet get a spouse and kids, have a houseful, but I’m hard to be around and sterile as a roweled mule.

Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful?
Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful.

And always, something reminds me of you.

lyrics found here

http://www.tumblr.com/tagged/mumps-etc.

Not.

I'm busy conformin to normalcy. Not, because that's impossible. You strive to be something you know you're not. Therefore you're set for disaster from the start. Maybe it would be easier if you just came to terms with who you are. There's no big secret. You're not broken, you're just different. There are people out there who are equal to you. Not below you. Not above you. Those standards are stupid anyway, and force you into that same standard of normalcy that you fight to avoid. It's not your fault, you were trained into it. You were taught to believe these things. That doesn't mean they are correct. You must learn to see outside of it. Even if it's true for those around you and it looks so easy to live life that way. It might not be easy for them either. Maybe you're the smarter one because you can sometimes see outside of it. There are others who can see even more outside of it. They are the truely gifted ones. Maybe happiness isn't the goal because that goal cannot be reached. Maybe your purpose in life is challenging your mind and allowing yourself to feel like you have a purpose bigger than all this bullshit in front of your face each day. Life is stupid sometimes. You are stupid sometimes. You're also gifted and fantastic sometimes. Just let that last part sink in. Maybe you need to find the one who makes you feel gifted and fantastic. Duh. Not so easy. Until then just remind yourself and keep on keepin on.

current sentiments

focus your attention elsewhere because you're an idiot.

fickle, the band aid ripper

most likely fixating on the details of what i said
when really none of that matters
although i'll admit i said it in a cruel way
i even sort of blamed you
when i know it's not you, it's just not us.
i'll know better for next time
i had fun with you

fickle hearts know the truth early on
but they can convince themselves of anything
at least for a while

Honeymoon Stage Cut Short

I realized how disgusting you really are
as I watched you walk away
trying to figure out who to take advantage of next 

I listen when you talk
Although I'll admit I hear just what I want to
We all do that, especially you
You just don't seem to hear anything important to me

If I'm going to be your mother
then you might as well be my father

I let you take advantage of my kindness
because I feel guilty for not liking you that much
HOW IRRATIONAL IS THAT
In fact
I don't think you really even like me that much
I'm just another resource to you


We both have something to offer each other
but I don't think it's quite enough
you can't pick and choose because someone inevitably wants more
that's the truth in both cases

I like how you understand parts of me
and try to unravel the rest
but you'll never get it
so in the end your kindness just hurts