Save That for Black and White.

some nights i stay up, cashing in my bad luck
some nights, i call it a draw
some nights, i wish that my lips could build a castle
some nights, i wish they'd just fall off

i find myself a dimwit when i blog.
that's why i've stopped for quite a while.
but fuck it, i just felt like it, okay?

my mind creeps back to those old summer days of my youth.
how everyday i would either be wading in unsalted lakes,
or cartwheeling on mountains.
because with my imagination,
my backyard was miles and miles of gorgeous nature.

now when i look at it, i only feel nostalgia.
i don't find that utopia for anything else but childhood.
and as of two days ago, i am not a child anymore.

this is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?
why don't we break the rules already?
i was never one to believe the hype

save that for black and white.

past is past, but i still travel backward.
but instead of enjoying it like the Doctor would,
i find myself pining.

i remember last summer all too well.
and how different it was compared to this.
different places, different friends, different guys...
but the same lessons are learned.
but as of now, the goals and mistakes and opportunities these few months have taught me more than any other summer would.
the other ones just feel distant,
like a star in the night;
as if they're gleaming silver trophies in a glass case.
just there to look at.
not touch.

but i still wake up, and i see your ghost
oh lord, i'm not sure what i stand for
what do i stand for? what do i stand for?
most nights, i don't know anymore.

would you like to understand?let me just give you a glimpse of comprehension.
the two-thousand twelve summer was all about:
1. letting go of old relationships.
2. making compromise.
3. giving in so that you can't give up.
4. crying out to an Absolute.
5. making the effort to try long distance.
6. living in the moment.
7. sacrificing.
8. satisfying.
9. trying.
10. loving.
11. living.
12. surviving.

all that we can do is survive. we just have to figure out the best way how.
i finally figured out how.
just lie down, listen to the melody,
and soon,

you'll know.

Close Minded.

from the past few weeks of these endless summer days,

i think i've grasped a tiny idea of how people work.
how they act, how they think, how they move,
how they breathe.
(i'm not saying i know everyone inside and out, mind you).
i'm just saying i know a lot about a certain type.

i see the differentials.
i sometimes feel like an AI,
scanning people for their flaws,

so that i could take them out with my machinery.

but i can tell who have open doors,
and those who shut them out to the public.
like they don't want to deal with the ever changing world that we're living in.
and let me tell you,

noticing that vice does not make me feel joyous inside.

it makes me want to throw up.

i don't like the idea of pointing out the mistakes instead of pointing out the accomplishments.

i don't like when people use others just to throw them away.
and i especially despise when it repeats.
like the victim is part of the fucking rinse cycle.
constantly dirty from the control,
and pushed around and flipped upside down,
the manipulator feeling like they need a "cleanse".

i never get physically ill from just words.
but when they're used with such callous tone and cruelty,
my esophagus tugs at my abdomen,
desperately pushing nothing to the surface.
it just needs to force something out.

but instead i swallow my rage.
and leave it alone.

the sad part of this all is,

that i make myself sick too.

for leaving them close minded.

and for standing still instead of shoving the door open.
breaking it at it's hinges.

so the shut gate is broken.
and it's open for all to know and all to see.
just how i do.