It's like a Magic Bullet for my head.

I'm so cool, too bad I'm a loser.
I'm to smart, too bad I can't get anything figured out
I'm so brave, too bad I'm a baby
I'm so fly, that's probably why it feels like I'm falling for the first time

Ah, the clouds. They accompany me wherever I go in good and bad ways. Today, it's a good one. The provide a haze in my mind that I'd rather not see all the way through. As I mentioned in a previous post, I like not totally understanding myself. Confusion is just one more cause of adventure, right?

On an unrelated note, first read-through of the play tomorrow... I'm the lead villain, so I'm sure I'll have more than a few lines... oh well, I have decent stage presence. I'm just exhausted, and tomorrow is going to be an ultra long day. Stupid marching band.

In all seriousness though; emotions, they don't make any sense, and I love it. Jumbled up thoughts are exciting, and there's few things more satisfying than being able to share a look of genuine mischief with someone.

A young woman quickly comes to the door, opening it and ushering the young man inside. As she leads him into the hallway, she raises her index finer to her lips to signal his silence. The woman then turns around and walks swiftly around the corner.

The Living

Stopping your heartbeat
But the parts stay in their place
Call on yourself tonight
Don't back away

Scratches on skin move slow
Put it back put it back down low
I felt a trace of your craving

The living sometimes will wait their whole lives
Today you take mine
Strength of a god as I open my hands to you

Send all my blood to you
Till your oceans have filled right through
And on the shored I will wait for days

It's not a cause for alarm
It's a strange and lovely place
Your absence makes me strong
So here I will wait, I will wait, I will wait

The living sometimes
Today I told it goodbye
A creature dead in your jaws
Strength of a god as I open my hands to you

Here in these oceans I wait as you call
You said you would come back, you told me yourself
Light will escape you wherever you are
So in darkness I will wait

Damn extended metaphors

"It has to be partly her doing. It takes two to tango."
"Not always."
"Then it's hardly much of a dance, is it?"
"She doesn't want to dance yet."
"Then why is she trying on shoes so soon?"

I'm like an old notebook. On the outside, you can get something of an idea of what I'm about, signatures; trying out new pens, a poorly-done picture of a guitar, the corner of the cover is bent backwards, and some smudged snippets of Edgar Allen Poe in sharpie. If you take the time to open me up though, you can never unsee what you might find. On some pages songs and poems, photographs of sunny afternoons and starry nights. Pages filled with joyous memoirs, that you can still smell the perfume of lovers on. Turn to the next, and your expectation-filled smile will be wiped away. The corner of the page is brown from flame, and the words on the page are frightening and dark. The whisper tales of self-loathing, cold, lonely evenings, envy, heartache, melancholy, and denial of love and life. You feel the breath pulled out of your mouth when you find this. You want to tear out the page and throw it away so it can't tarnish everything else in the notebook. You try, but you can't. The bad memories won't fix themselves, and neither can you. You just have to let it be. You do the first thing that comes to mind. You take hold of a pen. Royal blue. Press it against a blank spot and begin writing on the warm pages.

Dead tired.

I'm so exhausted. I don't even want to blog at all. I think for one of the first times in my life I actually kicked someone out of my house because I just wanted to go to sleep. I'm that ready to just pass out.
I'll write a more better post on the 'morrow. Until then I need my rest

Goodnight and good riddance to this computer screnn

4-1

First day of the new semester tomorrow... among the new classes I'm taking this spring are Chemistry 20-1 and Biology 20-1. It'll be a busy semester, but at least I have friends in these classes with me. I'm really not sure what to say... it's a cloudy night. I can't see very many stars, but the moon is very bright. It's so welcoming just to stare at it... to each and every one of us, it's the same moon, but it tells a different story. From a chunk of rock circling the earth, to some sort of alien camp-out, to the muse of a thousand poets, to a midnight sun, the moon is fantastic.

Glow softly
The night feels cold
No more

I haven't written a haiku in forever... that's pretty bad, but who cares? There's a million blogs on the internet, and this is no different from any of them.

Silly poet boy
-Chris

Music & Lust

Music,
Like love and lust, has roots in the soul.
You drive me mad with your A notes,
Making me wild like a staff with no lines.
Kisses placed randomly on paper as notes turn into high screams and low moans.

Love,
Like anger flows through my veins and burns me,
So does the fire produced by every key you hit.
Taking me higher into a world where there is no dissonance,
And every sound, from every voice, melts into one word:

Lust,
Dances to the sound produced as sweat drips tenderly off your skin.
Hands roaming gently; our hearts the bass, beat, and background.
Hit that note for me, touch me where everything makes sense and I become the star in your opera show. Make me the soprano you know I am While my:

Soul,
Is Infatuated and drowning in your:

Music.

No credit can go to me for this. The author is ~Chaotic-undertone @ deviantart

It's just beautiful. I love the way it sounds, I love the way it feels, and most importantly, I love what it means. A little dirty, of course, but that's why it's amazing. Lily showed this one to me, and for that, I thank her. I really need to learn to memorize more things like this so I can quote them in applicable situations.

Beautiful Midnight

Math woo math

Darn... I want to write tonight. I really do. I don't have much to say, but I have the desire to say it. These things, however, will have to wait. I have a math final tomorrow, therefor, I must get sleep so I can do well.

Wish me luck

Asymptotes do NOT under any circumstances exist. X cannot equal -7! It just doesn't happen!