will you tell her?

i was in love with a girl once.


i can't remember her face


but she's from around here,


so if you know her, will you tell her?
that once i was in love with her..


she was holding my hand and i didn't want her to let go
she was wearing a little girl dress..


her hair was messy brown and so pretty under a hat


she danced next to me all night, i wanted to dance with her
she found me the next day and let me stare into her eyes from two steps away
she left me that night, and i haven't stopped remembering her since


i was in love with a girl once.

in the tone of infatuation

You’re a bright light, baby, you are such a bright light,

You are shinning in my bed, lighting up our storybook under the covers

Baby I’ve been waiting for this moment for almost a year now

You with your teaching degree and me with my notebook ready for notes

I sat front row until I had to sit back row because of the electrocution risk

Your movement was fiery; your existence had me sweltering

I’d scribble fake words while my mind played a movie of you

Holding me against the whiteboard, our hands over each others mouths

And then it was no longer a play-pretend nightly fantasy

You were graduated and I was so perfectly alone

I gave you a flower and stared at your hands while you reached out

You spoke in French for me and I stopped breathing

It was too long denied and too hard to do so, but still I longed for you

When you finally came over to my bed and The Smiths were playing

I kissed you and you poured out your passion from your shaking fingertips

You tasted exactly like I always imagined

My heart frazzled out to a stop but you shocked me to life again

When you told me that you had always been so overwhelmed by me as well

nap time

if i lay in bed long enough, i can pretend its raining outside..

i need to find that old me, i think

as i lay still, pretending pitter pats on the window

i like who i am now

but i lost my confidence along my way here

i forgot what it was like to feel more than capable

more beautiful

more than enough for anyone

i forgot what it was like to think someone doesn't deserve me

i am better than i give myself credit for

i'm still in bed, and i'm crying lyrics out

candles flickering in the wet wind

the smell of rain

its all in my mind

but if i just lay still enough

it's all real

the dirty mistress

Something about me must taunt these men. They lack the knowledge I know of myself, so I must be a vision to them. Messy blond hair and seductive eyes, I must be this youthful temptress. And it's possibly worse when they learn details. A nineteen year old virgin? Big red lips and a untouched body? Of course they couldn't be satisfied with their aging wives or controlling girlfriends. But really, what is it? What do I do to attract these men? And always the ones I am not interested in. Why couldn't the teacher I crave, with his delicious passion and vintage attitude, fall for me like these other men do? What do I have to do to get his attention? I sit in class and fantasize for fifty minutes of pushing him against the whiteboard, of him coming close and kissing my collarbone, of finding secret notes on the back of my assignments, telling me when and where to meet him. But nonetheless I am alone, alone with inappropriate not-so-secret admirers leaving me love notes, which will forever be without a response because I swim in a different dead sea.

there is no one

Laying face down on the couch

sick to your stomach

because nothing works anymore

and you don't know how to manage

you never wanted to depend on the pills

but now when you shake, you want to take

more and more, whatever will make you numb to this pain

simple exchanges, not even the most basic

can provide what you want

there is nothing that can provide what you want

i like to paint

warning: splatter painting can be messy

goodbye, you've treated me well

au revoir la sage bleue, tu m'as donné la vie depuis si longtemps

jam

this is the song i listen to while being heavily influenced by edie sedgwick's style.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLK7hrRijes
cigarette anyone?

goodnight moon vs. searching for used banjo

i have trouble tucking in for bed when i know waking up is around six hours later and filled with tempting dreams. each day i grow older and farther away from those things i did that i love.. and that i hate.. each day i breathe in and think.. what is today? will i write pointless papers and meet pointless people? or will i procrastinate and let my body be sucked in by the world wide texting entertainment machine of pure waste? or will i go buy a used banjo and teach myself to play? will i kiss a stranger? or tell someone i crave that i think they are wonderful? i wake up every morning to fight with my alarm, because its hard to decide what the day will be.


will i sit next to beautiful people at la cour de l'amour.. taste rain on my open lips.. feel the wind write notes on my skin?