You look at me like you’ve been saved From another one that got away. So I’m your latest cup of tea To keep your cold hands company, And I will warm you. I will calm you down. Until those waters Are ready to be sailed upon, Under a honeymoon. Under a honeymoon.
You say you’ve never felt this way At least not this early. We decide to hold nothing back – We’ll act how we want to act. And so, eventually, we became pretty good actors. Acting and reacting and acting and reacting Under a honeymoon.
We know the sun is gonna rise, We tell ourselves to act surprised, We’re comforted in our denial That dark love can be reconciled Oh please, oh please, …. reconcile me From all these bad actors, All these bad endings.
Under a honeymoon; We want what we’re not and we don’t want to stop ‘cause it feels right – or at least it’s feeling good,
….at least it feels good…
I always fall in love too soon, Caught beneath the glow of a honeymoon
Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
A coma might feel better than this, Attempting to discover where to begin. You're weighed down, you're full of something. Of sickness, and desertion. You're weighed down, you're full of something, You're underneath it all.
So say goodbye to love, And hold your head up high. There's no need to rush We're all just waiting, waiting to die.
Hoping a better place is all I need, With moments of innocence and mystery. Oh, it's the little things you miss. Like waking up all alone. Oh, it's the little things you miss, When you're underneath it all.
So say goodbye to love, And hold your head up high. There's no need to rush We're all just waiting, waiting to die.
All your friends seem like enemies When you're broken down and empty. All your friends seem like enemies When you're broken down and empty.
So say goodbye to love, And hold your head up high. There's no need to rush We're all just waiting, waiting to die.
If what they say is true You are a shadow in the fourth dimension To float away with you We see the corners where nothing happens While we drifted we were one Ceilings lifted walls were gone You speak the language of the breeze All your leaves were meant for me
“Do not look back and grieve over the past, for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has yet to come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful that it will be worth remembering.” -Ida Scott Taylor
I have been cleaning out my room today because my new furniture arrives tomorrow. This forces me to go through all my crap from years ago, which has caused me to feel both depressed and nostalgic.
Sometimes, stepping back and looking back really helps you appreciate who you are and the person you have become.
"If we met today, promise me you'll stay awake long enough to hear me say 'let's go to sleep'"
"I thought so much about losing you that I never really had you."
I want to moan and writhe with you and I want to go up to you and kiss your mouth and pull you to me and say "I love you I love you I love you" while stripping. I want you so bad it stings. I want to kill the ugly girls that you're always with. Do you really like those boring, naive, coy, calculating girls or is it just for sex? The seeds of love have taken hold, and if we won't burn together, I'll burn alone. Brett Easton Ellis - The Rules of Attraction
I have a friend, he is mostly made of pain. And he wakes up, drives to work, and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper. I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover. And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent. And he said
"Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me. Your eyes are poor. You're blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me. I'm a waste of breath, of space, of time."
I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. And her love for her man was one of her many virtues. Until one day, she found out that he had lied and she decided the rest of her life from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened. And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept. What did you expect? In that big, old house with the cars she kept. "And such is life," she often said. With one day leading to the next, you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her. She never got upset and with all the days she may have left, she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best. She was free to waste away alone.
Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop he pulled him off to the side of the road. And he said, "Officer! Officer! You got the wrong man. No, no, I'm a student of medicine, a son of a banker, you don't understand!" The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And your carelessness, it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known, your decisions now are yours alone. You are nothing but a stepping stone on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."
The last few months I have been living with this couple. Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle. And I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us. And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy. Will my number come up eventually? Like Love's some kind of lottery, where you scratch and see what's underneath. It's "Sorry", just one cherry, or "Play Again." Get lucky.
So I've been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride. I just sit and watch the people there. And they remind me of wind up cars in motion. The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions. And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense. All your life's one track, can't they see it's pointless? But just then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and suddenly it's clear to see it's not them but me, who has lost my self-identity. As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry, like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one could hope to achieve. And I am never real; it is just a sketch in me. And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
So now I park my car down by the cathedral, where the floodlights point up at the steeples. Choir practice was filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo. Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When the voices blend they sound like angels. I hope there’s some room still in the middle. But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven. So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe start walking off. And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God and I have no faith but it's all I want, to be loved. And believe, in my soul. In my soul. In my soul. In my soul.
"Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In your heart of chambers where you sit with your picture books and your ancient wit In that nook I found you so old and tired would you be the one to carry me? I'd like to be someone you could finally learn to love again
Made our iron bed side cold as graves so we stoke the organs that may comfort grace and they conjured spirits to make you smile would you be my long time baby?
I'd like to be someone you could finally learn to breathe at our sides let's take the time to mend these smiles to get them could make it home love is surprises live our own lives
In our beds we're the lucky ones filled with the sun In our beds we're the lucky ones fill us with the sun
hansel said to gretel, "let us drop these bread crumbs so that together we find our way home because losing our way would be the most cruel of things."
losing your way on a journey is unfortunate but losing your reason for the journey is a fate more cruel. the journey didn't last long. sometimes i traveled alone. sometimes there were others who took the wheel and took my heart. but when the destination was reached it wasnt me who arrived. it wasnt me at all and once you lose yourself you have two choices. find the person you used to be or lose that person completely... because sometimes you have to step outside the person you've been and remember the person you were meant to be, the person you wanted to be, the person you are.
name ten things you wanna do before you die and then go do them. name ten places you really wanna be before you die and then go to them name ten books you wanna read before you die and then go read them name ten songs you wanna hear again before you die, get all of your friends together and scream them
think of all the things that are wrong with your life and then fix them think of all the things that you love about your life, be thankful you are blessed with them think of all the things that hold you back and realize that you don't need them think of all the mistakes you have made in your life, make sure that you never repeat them
because right now all you have is time time time name ten thousand reasons why you never wanna die, go and tell someone who might've forgotten try to list the endless reasons why it's good to be alive, and then just smile for awhile about them
soon the sun will rise and another day will come soon enough the sun will set, another day will be gone and right now all you have is time time time but someday that time will run out. that's the only thing you can be absolutely certain about. -- paul baribeau
"Live each season as it passes. Breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, but resign yourself to the influences of each." -Henry David Thoreau
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
definitely one of my favorite writers of the 20th century!
