wilderness.

yes,
i've managed to
deal out these threats
with a straight face.

yes,
they were all
straight out of the
handbook.
nothing new.

and yes,
there is no way
in this world except
for the one you make
yourself.
i'll give you that.

this, however,
is not an animal farm.
there are no perks of being a wallflower.
and, quite frankly,
i could care less if you let me go.
in fact, please do.

i've found a stone mannequin.
cold to the touch,
but beautiful.
yes, she is beautiful.
i took her hand
and she spoke to me.
these words,
her words,
have become my own.
when life bursts into flames,
i will cling to these syllables
to be reborn.
but what is rebirth
when there is no reform?

if there ever were a dream
too large to manifest,
it would be what i see when
i close my eyes,
but there's no winner
in a game of
truth or dare.
simply participants.
simple participants.

one day, i'd like
people to shout my
name until they lose
their voice.

one day, i'd like
to be
perfectly content
with the whole world.

and one day, i'd
absolutely adore
to show you what i see.
destruction, yes,
but it is beautiful.
yes, she is beautiful.


we are not the same.

roman's revenge.

dear, how things have changed for us.
all of those things i never expected,
and all of those things that i saw coming.
all of those things i still see coming,
off in the distance.
near and far.
near and then far.
may the angels lead you in,
for i've forgotten how.
i've forgotten many things.
what i was feeling that night.
how the light glitters across your smile.
just how scared i am of losing
all of these things i spend
my days
running away from.
am i the crazy one?
i must be insane,
so where did you put my asylum?
oh, those robes you wear
when you stand over me,
lingering,
and i'm falling.
oh, the wind
that is carrying me south
of your expectations.
when i land,
i'll have to travel far
just to get back
to where you think i should be.
even as i make friends with the clouds,
i wonder where you may be.
even as i step into the lions den,
i think about the words i've spoken to you.
i hope that in the end,
my end,
you'll repeat them all
backwards.
perfectly backwards.
you are perfect.
we go back.
i am backwards.
i am destruction,
and i am proud.

take me by the hand,
and tell me you will take me
anywhere.
can you see past me?
oh, how i've tried to stand
right in front of you.
and oh, how i plan to stay
right here.
in front of you.


we are not the same.

the show must go on.

curtain close.
the ever-present applause.
i can all but see the
disgusting smiles they wear.
after this, the ascent.
the rise begins directly
after the fall.
it's not exactly a part
of the script,
but times like these
call for new scripts
to be written.
they call for improvisation.
they call for destruction.
you all had a
front row seat
to my
fall from grace.
did you enjoy?

conversation ensue.
hello, my name is josh.
i'm going to change the world.
good day.

in this next scene,
i go "home."
well, i go back.
i go to my past.
my roots.
in the end, though,
i find that this place,
this asylum,
is my home.
that is, it's where my heart is.
later in the show,
i'll hide the beating thing
somewhere in under the california sun.

you see, this character,
this "josh" fellow,
he likes to live on the edge.
he isn't big on "rules."
he's handsome,
and smart,
and fun.
fun, most of all.
his motive, his verb,
is pretty clear.
dazzle.
i feel like that's a good word for it.

the show isn't too lengthy.
he teeters early,
but stays strong.
he becomes the epitome of great.
he changes the world.
does things people can only dream of.
then, when he's done, he's done.
curtains close.
people clap.
done.

if only they knew that this show
is a life that hasn't been lived.
yet.

we are not the same.

compass.

when i emerge alone
from the underneath,
sparkling valiantly
with the dust of
brilliance
about me,
i will be good enough.
and when i make unwhole
this life,
plucking from it
the gift of flight,
the wings,
i will be named destruction.

if you forget it all,
i will carry the blame on my shoulders.
a nomad, i am.
bearing arms.
bearing shards
of the shattered mirrors
i've crafted.
and i know, the only compass i need
is the one
that leads to the edge of my world.
i will jump,
a leap of faith,
into the abyss.
and i will fall,
so fast,
into nothing.
into everything.

when i get sent back
to the start,
whether it's my imagination
or it's real,
i feel like i'm being pulled from
the stars.
i feel like where i'm meant to be
is the one place i don't belong.
i'll be damned, though, if i don't make it.
i'll take that leap,
the jump,
the end,
a million times over before i give up.
a million and one more, for good measure.
each time, closing my eyes to see.
each time, crossing my fingers for luck.
each time, whispering the same secret.

i wish i could be a ghost.
i wish i could haunt you.
i wish that i could simply
float away.
oh, how i'd wander this earth.
the things i could see when
no one
could see me.
can you see me?

and when i collide with the barrier,
in dead space,
where the angels form their walls,
i shall make them unwhole,
plucking from them the gift of flight,
their wings.
as they fall,
they shall name me destruction.
but when i emerge alone
from the underneath,
sparkling valiantly
with the dust of
brilliance
about me,
i will be good enough.

we are not the same.

if you run,

after the lions take their share,
a frightening magic i cling to.
i've asked nothing but chances
out of you,
for you.
so easily is a globe placed into
hands that could never hold
what it keeps inside.
so easily.


when the lights dim,
i still find myself blinded.

oh, how invisible i've become.
puzzled and riddled.
holding signs of the sick.
the unable.
has the curtain fallen?
descending like gabriel,
with similar intentions.
for me. against me.
the flow and cycle.


i wait for the new chapter
in this old book.
plead for this wrinkled page
to turn.
i've read it a million times,
memorized the lettering of each word,
it seems.
always thrown by the first sentence.
always mistaking it for something new.
it's never new.
let me go.


oh the secrets i keep behind these eyes.
how could you take me for a shark?
i could never be.
i could never hope to be.
not with my jar of souls so empty.
yearning to be set free.
smashed on broken sidewalks.
placed inside storybooks,
the ones that caught your eye.
no song can be played
with these broken strings.
no arrows sent flying.
made barefoot.
how could you take me for a shark?
when i prayed for it,
swam through the sea,
searching.
oh, the beautiful fish i've seen.
the magical creatures you've only dreamed of.
the vastness i call home,
so full of life,
feels so empty and small.


don't wake me.
i'm only dreaming.
perhaps i can make some memories
of my own.
i'm only dreaming.


we are not the same.

notes to myself.

dear josh, pay attention.
your thought process is a small child
in a toy store.
if you haven't noticed,
you have a lot of work to do.
that's nothing new.
i understand that those faces
you draw in your head,
while you doodle others on the page,
mean something to you.
no, past tense, meant something
to you.
forgive me for bringing it up,
but what ever happened to those hopefuls?
if you ask me, they were hopeless.
indecisive, are we?
at some point, things must be decided.
else, they might end up like your thought process.
hard to follow, impossible to catch.

josh, you have got to grow up.
you can not be a little kid forever.
these trivial things won't matter when you're older.
the only thing you need to do
is this fucking work.
i know it sometimes feels like
an uphill battle,
but it must be done.
come on, if anyone, you know
about doing things you don't want to.
you've done it all your life.
you'll be doing it forever.
it's just who you are,
get used to it.
you were made to make others happy.
you knew that, didn't you?
independence, please.
get it together.

and josh, if you don't mind,
try and listen to me a little more.
sometimes i do know what i'm talking about.
you doubt me so easily.
it's frustrating.
i told you that you'd regret this procrastination.
i was right.
i told you that three was more than you can juggle.
totally right.
i told you this would pass quickly.
you'll find out soon enough.
have a little faith, please.
i mean, you trained me yourself.
i'm golden, use me.
i'd like to apologize for all the times
i won't have the answer,
and all the times i didn't have the answer.
my bad.
now, quit letting yourself be blocked.
get to work.
do some genius.
you're golden, use me.

we are not the same.

par avion.

the time has come
to pull myself away from gypsies.
to set aflame the bridges,
cut the ties.
i need to find myself in this
hazed box you've built.
the walls, sanded by your fingertips,
are my only guide.
and where were you?
the floor, awkwardly lain,
is my stability.
and where were you?
the ceiling, nonexistent.
and where have you gone?

you spoke sweet stories of
gardens and love.
i sat you with the saints,
created your charms,
shouted to the world many praises.
you, so vain, sipped from my soul,
and spoke sweet stories of
gardens and love.
speak to me now, again.
light skulls and heavy hearts.
show me the trinkets you've picked up
on your travels across my mind.
surely you've seen,
surely you know.

i've breathed the colors of your eyes,
felt the beating of your heart.
apologize to me now, again.
i've since forgotten the temperature of your fingertips.
i've lost the memory of trivial conversations,
dirtied with falsehoods.
look for me now, and i'm gone.

when the bees make honey in the lion's head,
allow for a witness
in your unholy presence.
allow for a martyr in your world.
let us fly with Icarus,
fly on frail wings of vanity and wax.
oh, how i fell.
oh, how we'll fall.

we are not the same.

night&day.

you can only reside in a singular space,
a neat little square,
for so long before it becomes yours.
perhaps your name isn't plastered on it.
on the front and on the back.
people talk; they know it's yours.
err, they know it's mine.
but what happens when you
soar through the galaxies on this square,
only to realize that it's everything you didn't want?
err, not what you wanted.

when you're peering over the edge,
where the earth meets the heavens,
you have nothing to show but this tiny rectangle.
this thing you've created, because at some point this is
exactly what you said you wanted.
when does it become too late to take it back?

i count the stars as they pass,
dealing their dulled wisdom,
each twinkle a glimpse of the past,
pleading to become one of them,
begging myself to do otherwise.
this is. is this?

when you live on the edge,
walking a thin line between
fantasy and reality,
you can have whichever you want,
but is there ever a choice?
can you really choose?
err, can i really choose?


we are not the same.

southbeach.

i woke up with a quickly-drawn "b" right along my jaw.
honestly, i didn't know the sharpie scribble on my
hand was a "b" until i saw it this morning.
on my cheek.

i had so much fun last night.

i came to the realization that perhaps
there is such a thing as a pretty alpha chi omega.
this led me to the realization that
no matter where you are, or who you are,
there are always other fish in the sea.
there is another person, another fish.
another chance at happiness.
so, it's on to the next.

"there's better fish in the sea
than ever came out of it."
-after juliet

seems lately, i've been trying a little too hard to
get the attention that i used to get
without raising a finger.
last night, i had those drizzly eyes gazing.
full of want, curiosity, wonder.
up and down. up and down.
i danced with a blonde stranger.
i felt the combustion engine that lives
inside of me pumping for dear life.
it was more fun than i've had in a long time.
there was no weight from societal pressures
pushing down on my back.
hunching me. killing me.
now that i'm safely back inside my own bones,
these bones i've allowed to grow up and around me,
i know how it's supposed to be
in the external.

it's too bad that it's not my style.
wonderful things can happen in situations
where those who take part are hopelessly
out of their element.
or just hopeless.

statements made, i'm done.
i've begun to fly somewhere above it.
approximately 60,000 miles up,
traveling at mach 2.02.
similar to the actions of a concorde super-jet.
please, do catch up.
explain to me how the sonic boom feels.
anyone?




so, look closely.
understand that i haven't changed at all.
understand that i still have morals and manners.
understand that i know my left from my right.
understand that i still have feelings, somewhere.
understand that i've grown up.
understand that i've changed so much.

we are not the same.

this is times up, put your signs up.

i've come to find some amazing things
in this place,
in this time
that i call my life.
magical worlds and people who shine,
shine with the light from a million suns.
people who refuse to let people and things
come between who they are and where they're going.
these people have, collectively, become my muse.
my base, and my rock.
a place full of endless inspiration and love.

it's times like these, when silence means everything.
words are mere complications in this place,
distractions from what is right in front of your eyes.
in this place, surrounded by these faces of all the greats,
things are easy.
simple.

there is no wondering of the ahead,
there is no pondering of the behind.

there are no names, though we are all well-versed in them.
you don't have to try, do touch-ups on the way,
or overnight any designer wares to fit in.

everyone is a genius, and everyone is ignorant.

these people can tell you the simple answer
to whatever complicated question your mind can make up.
these answers, one word, leave you stranded at sea inside your head.
they give you clarity in a room full of smoke and mirrors,
but only if you accept them.
if you allow them to become your new laws.
the new propositions.
the new gravity.

this is the place, these are the people you run to when
your back is against the wall and the revolution is
in front of your face.
with their weapons. with their weapons.

it's easy to get here if you've ever been here before.
in this new place of wonders.
i wish every day that i could bring you with me,
but i fear that you would ruin it.
ruin it for me, and for everyone.
all the old, wise souls i keep here.
they are my treasures.
they are my treasures.

this is what i've become.
this is what living like this does.
we are not the same.

truths.

you know, they say that
drunken words are sober thoughts.
truth.

this week has been long and difficult,
no matter how quickly it went by.
truth.

i absolutely adore my roommate, charles.
he is an amazing roommate,
and he is very good with words.
i love to listen to him talk.
truth.

i'm a player.
i play.
that's what i'm decidedly good at.
btw, i'm back.
truth.

since college has started,
i'm poor.
i desperately need a job.
truth.

since mallory whittington went to missouri,
i hate missouri.
and i miss her terribly.
i do.
truth.

i have a secret that i want to tell people.
every day.
truth.

i wonder all the time what
my future holds
for me.
truth.

i love college.
truth.

relapse.
truth.

i love little wayne and marc jacobs.
i feel like they are genius in their own right.
and amazing at what they do.
on a daily basis.
truth.

i'm not necessarily looking forward to
thanksgiving,
or christmas.
truth.

i love my life.
everything about it.
well, mostly.
i love most of it.
it's beautiful.
truth.

we are not the same.

storybooks.

you weren't mine to take,
but that never stopped me.
i made sure to always leave something lingering
in the spaces
between you and i.
the spoken words were proof.
i had you.

without a glance to speak of,
you couldn't stop.
following the trail of breadcrumbs
i trailed behind me.
surrounded by all of those story books.
you needed it, like a drug.
the spoken words were proof.
i had you.

current. present. as we speak.
how old you've already become.
as if something were taking the life out of you,
or someone.
you trip over them on a daily basis, my words.
you grab at them like an animal.
ferocious.
the spoken words are proof.
i have you.

silly, silly, how it goes. where i'll stop, nobody knows.

i have mastered the art of wedging and making you smile.
my greatest feat, my greatest talent, however,
is playing with your hearts.
like picking the petals off flowers.
"you love me, you love me not..."

this is my game.
it's what i'm good at, anymore.
a silly past-time, leading
me nowhere in particular.
nowhere.
anywhere.


we are not the same.

today.

today i told myself one thing.
over,
and over,
and over.

as my mind wandered, flickering to thoughts
and processes that i had no business
carrying around in my head,
i just kept telling myself
this simple little word.
oh, this simple little world.

locked deep inside that moment,
you only feel the anger, the harsh.
it takes a november.
it takes a november.
i understand.

still, this one word had me.
kept me.
held me.
all day.

please remember, always and forever.
without this, you have nothing.
remember,
smile.

we are not the same.

grace.

eighteen years. eighteen years of keeping mouths shut. closing doors. sweeping lives and loves under a politically incorrect rug in the middle of a poorly decorated living area. without the slightest inkling of wrong-doing, it fell. as much as it fell, it shattered; broke into millions and trillions of tiny little pieces strung together by the strings of hearts who’ve been here before. right here. now and before. always will it catch up. always will it know. never shall a sneak be allowed to slick by with the grace of angels. close your eyes, and things will be new. keep them open, watch them change. regardless, it will happen. knew it would be different. knew it would be all the things wished for over a lifetime. a lifetime of eighteen years. message says, “this is not the end. it only feels that way.” with the freedom come to know, so has a world of issues unforeseen and uninvited. unwanted. new track: not a human, with tendencies to be amazing underneath social standards. we are not the same.