and you're just
fashionably intelligent
fashionably elegant
fashionably rude and insincere
fashionably tacky
fashionably childlike, and i hear
theres a genuine streak of goodness in you.
throw in quasi-pseudo, just to be
on the safe side of you.
yes, but id rather be inside of you and you
understand this, i fear.
and wouldnt it be wonderful to bite your skin
oh wouldnt you
wouldnt you let me in-
side your skull?
wouldnt you rather i fingerpick your nylon nerves to shreds
somewhere deep inside do you dread that you
might just enjoy yourself?
and youre just
fashionably calm
politically incorrect
fashionably on the verge of indecency, desperate.
mythology must mean alot to you
choking, clinging
god, i love you.
fashionably straight.

hahahahahahahaha.....

my first Pink Floyd lyrics. there's a story. tell you someday...

through the fish eyed lens of tear stained eyes
i can barely define the shape of this moment in time
and far from flying high in clear blue skies
i'm spiralling down to the hole in the ground where i hide
if you negotiate the minefield in the drive
and beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
and if you make it past the shotgun in the hall
dial the combination. open the priesthole
and if i'm in i'll tell you what's behind the wall
there's a kid who had a big hallucination
making love to girls in magazines
he wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith
could anybody love him
or is it just a crazy dream
and if i show you my dark side
will you still hold me tonight
and if i open my heart to you
and show you my weak side
what would you do
would you sell your story to rolling stone
would you take the children away
and leave me alone
and smile in reassurance
as you whisper down the phone
would you send me packing
or would you take me home
thought i oughta bare my naked feelings
thought i oughta tear the curtain down
i held the blade in trembling hands
prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
i never had the nerve
to make the final cut.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain...
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rain?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange
A walk-on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?


How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

i will always return to you.
your name is whispered on the notes of
songs we sang together, in absence.
i will always return to you,
sans fear, guilt, secrecy
your heart being my dark
secret room
tired, endless escape into your lungs
swim smoothly through your veins
fall asleep in the gentle rise
and fall of your chest
you'd carry me around even if
you could barely carry yourself.
and it asks no return,
except all that i give and it
speaks no strange befuddling language of the eyes and the tongue
it just sits, close, warm, compassionate:
beating gently, whispering like trees in the sunshine
this deep, common dialect
of our lives.

-anon, discovered on blather

Part of Your World, Little Mermaid

Look at this stuff
Isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you think I'm the girl
The girl who has everything?
Look at this trove
Treasures untold
How many wonders can one cavern hold?
Lookin' around here you'd think
Sure, she's got everything

I've got gadgets and gizmos aplenty
I've got whozits and whatzits galore
You want thingamabobs?
I got twenty
But who cares?
No big deal
I want more

I wanna be where the people are
I wanna see
Wanna see 'em dancin'
Walkin' around on those
Whad'ya call 'em? Oh - feet
Flippin' your fins you don't get too far
Legs are required for jumpin', dancin'
Strollin' along down a
What's that word again?
Street

Up where they walk
Up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Wanderin' free
Wish I could be
Part of that world

What would I give
If I could live
Outta these waters?
What would I pay
To spend a day
Warm on the sand?
Betcha on land
They understand
Bet they don't reprimand their daughters

Bright young women
Sick o' swimmin'
Ready to stand...

And ready to know what the people know
Ask 'em my questions
And get some answers
What's a fire and why does it
What's the word?

Burn

When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love
Love to explore that shore up above?

Out of the sea
Wish I could be
Part of that world....

in between the usual drivel of positivism and proactivity... the softest, strayest desires for something better... a wisp of a wish, like "far off carnival music", as tenessee williams would put it. like a cool little breeze... and you were so sure all the doors and windows were sealed.

The Laurel and Hardy Love Affair by Ray Bradbury
"Now," she said, "I'm heading for the door. We are very special, wondrous people, Ollie, and I don't think our like will ever come again in the world. But I must go. And now," she reached out. "My hand is on the door and..."
"And," he said, quietly.
"I'm crying," she said.
He started to get up but she shook her head.
"No, don't. If you touch me I'll cave in. I'm going. But once a year I'll show up at our flight of steps, no piano, same hour, same time as that night when we first went there, and if you're there to meet me I'll kidnap you, or you me."
"Stan," he said.
"My God," she mourned.
"What?"
"This door is heavy. I can't move it." She wept. "There. It's moving. There." She wept more. "I'm gone."
The door shut.

....

The Dot and the Line by Norton Juster
"Once upon a time there was a sensible straight line who was hopelessly in love with a dot. 'You're the beginning and the end, the hub, the core and the quintessence,' he told her tenderly, but the frivolous dot wasn't a bit interested, for she only had eyes for a wild and unkept squiggle who never seemed to have anything on his mind at all."

....

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
"...A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who dept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by."

The fifty buck joyless
cold lemonade and a battered
old textbook will do.
And I'll have a side serving of
life, with that, thank you.
Carry spare change, carry lots
of distractions that you can
reach into a sack and pull out of.
Building close ties with all the
people inside my head-
head on, bouncing, beautiful,
joyless.
Satiation, it seems
is too much effort.
Perpetual hunger will keep you on your feet
pushing, stretching, aspiring
to make it through, make it through.

I worship the clock.
But this class isn't over yet.
(can you whisper nicotine and crawl into my veins?)
I have the blueprints here, if you want to
make your machine and fly away.

My world twitches, manically,
As if electrocuted.
(Dragonflies skim the surface of the pond
but only long enough to outstrip their
reflections.)
I digress. The glass sweats.

Im going to smile for you, now, and i want
you to take a picture of me.