vivaennui

I thought this night would shade me from everything Actually it's moonlight I don't know what I'm made of Actually it's moonlight I must have made something not quite special You tread a trade on promise You tread a trade on promise What it is, is afterthought.

Malediction is neither black nor white by any means It is the sun chasing the moon in an endless catastrophe.

If you say, I'll stay no more I can run away but sore Ooooh the memories won't forge Onto another crash test plan from years ago. Twice we went from grey skies and cloudy hues Twice we deafened each other from screaming the blues But oooooh those blues were meant for me and you Time went back and left us dry. The well was underground from layers of soot Water continues to flow but never to recover from it No sense now because there is no benefit And we will always be over (even if we never started) We will always run from each other We will always take cover But there never was a shelter for the two of us together. The world is and never was a place for lovers And we could conspire against it until we're dead But this isn't the time or the place for Ink stains on the bedsheets and lover from a pen Writing and dreaming is nothing when you have nothing to show for it. And we will always be over (even if we never started) We will always run from each other We will always t...

This blue orb spinning Pushed out gravitational force so strong Sent it out to the tin cans tied with string The children conspiring Puckered lips of the mailman whistling Morse code. Finally, shot back down to me All the lines and grids and black streaks Careening cars of what sincerity Has forged to bring such words Amidst the wreckage In making sense of this world. We’re left with Sticky rice Lumpy oatmeal What to make from all of this.

Confusing Eyes With Mouths We use bottles for glasses Confounding, confusing eyes and tongues This is why we’re blind. Seeing isn’t believing We can’t believe what we’re seeing We think we can taste the truth How bad do we want it? Pick it up off of the floor Dust it off Try to put it in out mouths again Like an infant Who can’t believe The objects they see can be So colorful So he picks up anything With his fat sticky fingers and Fumbles it into his mouth We try to grab things With our nimble fingers Realities we can’t pick up We can’t even reach We can’t admit that though The baby can try Just like baby, we babble Slobber, stammer, yammer, wage Those glasses aren’t binoculars They do not magnify the real picture Those glasses we wear pass through our lips Suffocating the air, swallowing up the gap Tongues and teeth are mere mile markers How far gone we become Slightly delusional By ...

Among Crows and Giants If I took out a pen for every wasteful thought I wanted to write by the end of the day, At night it grows ignorance and scuttles away. If I took out a pen every time I wanted to document a worthy emotion, It would have the legs of a giant. I do not know when my complications, Became more than a worry about getting a ride to Mary’s house to play. I do not know when I didn’t have a pen. Most memories that I have are flashes of a shutter, Printed on faded paper. Faded paper and washed out colors, Are the things my memory generates. All I can really tell is these things are neither, Memorably good, or memorably bad. I consist of quilted indifferences, Depicted with a brush consisting of a mere five bristles. I remember seeing crows’ feet around my Dad’s eyes. I knew just what that meant, crows feet. Mary got married and stopped worrying about me being late to play. I was now watching my Dad grow old just as...

La Sedia Vuota La sedia vuota improvvisamente polverosa su uscita, deserta unicamente cerca qualcos'altro all'infuori di solitudine La sedia vuota, una cicatrice, un segno, un graffio, significa niente quando da solo, cerca la tavola. La sedia vuota, il mogano affettuoso, la siglia intagliata, la dietro di imbottita, sostene compostezza senza La sedia vuota, invitante una vita migliore, invitante un scopo, invitante la vita, con non significato quando nessuna persona e la resta La sedia vuota, un nonno, un proprietario di carezzare, uno amico lontano, da solo alla tavola. La sedia vuota, mi, ti, estranei, tutti noi. Tutti abbiamo le sedie vuote, tutti sono le sedie vuote, tutti portiamo le sedie vuote i nostri cuori, tutti portiamo le sedie vuote i nostri cervelli, tutti abbiamo le sedie vuote per cuori. La sedia vuota, improvvisamente polverosa su uscita...

The Empty Chair The empty chair, suddenly dusty upon exit, desolate only seeking something other than solitude. The empty chair, a ding, a nick, a scratch, means nothing when alone, seeks the table. The empty chair, the warm mahogony, the carved initials, the cushioned back, maintains composure without. The empty chair, beckons a better life, beckons a purpose, beckons life with no significance when no one's in it. The empty chair, a grandfather, an owner's pet, a faraway friend, alone at an empty table. The empty chair, me, you, strangers, all of us. We all have empty chairs, We all are empty chairs, We all carry empty chairs in our hearts, We all carry empty chairs in our minds, We all have empty chairs for hearts. The empty chair, suddenly dusty upon exit...

all fighting fighting fighting is now struggle struggle struggle i am giving out i am weakened with nothing to hold me up from falling down i am shattered broken and no more

In this fashion of oppression we fly, backwards, like a frozen page stuck to the ground sticking like fingers, the wind has at its last grasp. Up against the mirrors we dress and act like we ride on attractive gleaming rails, a perpetual side story of confusion. Crawling with our eyes, sliding scale tipped, making someone think its monument is indeed the larger picture. Balanced, we'd think of monuments no more. Not in their glory, not bathed in importance by setting fire to the horizons. We're not here to marvel at things, and make them more important than we. Faucets drip un-natural thoughts, recycled situations, recycled saliva. First, we shook the clear dew, molding droplets from our skin. Now many social lacerations swept us from within. Clear dew, no longer present. Grease and oil took to us, the machines. We go on gleaming rails, we go on crawling eyes, we go until, we're gone.