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  • You always wanna be told you're right. Well maybe I got sick of lying all the time.
  • I miss you all the time but I'm blocking out.
  • Your husband, he drinks like a writer, but he writes like a banker. I hope his pens all run dry.
  • I think I thought so much about losing you that I never really had you.
  • 'Cause lately I've had to come to grips with scope and figure, how my problems stack up with a world two steps from ruin (or maybe it's rapture). Either way I realize that my shit's about as small as it could be, and that makes me feel worse for even feeling this bad in the first place.
  • Take abortion away, and both sides are just the same. So I'm not sure why I vote, 'cause I just don't know what difference it makes. It seems to me you get the same shit from them both. Reform don't work, I think it's time we tried revolt. But I don't got the guts to jump up and go first, so I just shout until my throat hurts, and I curse and I curse. And while we fucked up in Iraq, you say support the troops. I do, I want them all brought back, and every building that you bombed raised from the group, and pull your contractors the fuck out.
  • So most days I can't put to rest the burning city smoking in my mind.
  • Those of us who make our mark use someone else's blood. Our western stain won't wash away, won't vanish in the flood. It seeps deeper with each hurricane and tidal wave and war. We want everything we see and once it's gone we just want more.
  • Atlas had those shoulders, we have Ambien and Jameson's and blow to bind us in a bubble, keep the newsprint nightmare distant and remote.
  • When the worst case shows up dressed and dazzling, ready for the ball, boy that bubble's bound to burst and what a tragic way to fall.
  • And if our constant choice is skimming past the writing on the wall, then I'm sad to say we're lost and I'm embarrassed for us all.
  • It's Friday night and I am hungry for a hand, a mouth, a body, a love I wouldn't have to carry.
  • You were always cute but goddamn you got hot, hot enough to streak the streets white with sunspots when you walk.
  • It's a military mother with a boy in hell and it's a flag-draped casket down an oil well.
  • A good man doesn't drink, and I've been drinking alone, so what does that make me?
  • And as my daydream ends he stands ashamed, a shocked and shattered shell.
  • I don't see it like it's us and them, I just see everybody working for that same eternal weekend, droning on and on and on and never doing what we've wanted, heavy legs two steps behind some forever dangling carrot. And I'm tired of it. So who's to say that we can't just fucking change it?
  • It's just the people are so fickle and fall in love at different angles. And really I could lose you lose just as quickly as I've gotten you. And that's the kind of the of thought that makes me nervous. I worry if you'll really think I'm worth it when the rush wears off and you're left with this busted person.
  • I know the kid with his guitar, so drunk and anxious, has been done to death, but tell me what hasn't, I'll try it.
  • When you realize it's a pattern and not a phase, it's what you've become and it's what you will stay, that's a ballgame.
  • You were the moon held high.
jun 30 2011 ∞
sep 9 2011 +