journal fragments.

dreams arent something i have much of between the ringing in my ears from the grenade in my heart

So hard to believe what you're looking for, so hard to believe what you're looking for so hard to believe what youre looking for sohardtobelievewhatyourelookingfor

TOOK TWO. and called you in the morning brown eyes for chicago thighs This is my treetop This is my house brokeback wishes on fountain top dreams I owe(d) you one more than I owe myself caught up on giving up but we all disappear somewhere (disappear here) baby keeps b(r)eat(h)ing down my neck Took the nose and hung myself Everyone wants to be someone, Everyone wants to be someone else, To my savior, I can't deal I'm just a chicago boy with chicago crazy, Carina tells me theres crazy in the water and I'm the obvious byproduct, no one born here sees but if you look outside yourself you know, the city is made of teeth and everyones a cavity stretching across the surface the sun comes up on an open mouth and I think I'm having panic attacks thinking about the true blues that come from me and you. I remember high school I remember being in the back of a van with a shirt over her head I remember skatepark mondays and pot smoking tuesdays ditch drivers-ed wednesday and best friends thursday Fuck friday we live for the weekend and I miss it, I miss it, I miss tony and jose and everyone that meant something to me before i started making a dream for myself, this is all dream I don't want to write, I just want to runaway, I forget where I come from. What I'm doing here. It's so redundant. theres a lock around my lips, sinking ships, I want to mean everything.

every day the same joke. i never think its funny.

I got caught up on giving up
something I thought I never had
watching ghosts crack the pavement
we all disappear somewhere.
disappear here.
"I use to be a lifer", hanging from the strings of every word I never got to say. I mutter phrases and smile out sayings that I hope get the better of my chest and make you fall in my heart. It's a fighter, a soldier and when it gets dragged down it takes the boat with it. The show, the circus and the band. It's an anchor and it keeps me weighted down and level with the tangibles of my life. The intangibles get stuck in my head and find their way to my hands where I beat this notebook black and blue until a plan comes out. A heist, a gem, a witty little pop song that'll sell your ears and eyes something that'll make this last. I've been a boy, I tried to be a man but I get stuck on my own pages and slip into the dark. Lighting matches to lead you to me, in the darkness of your room "This makes things easier". Easiest when made with love. Harder when genuine. We relive failures in your sheets and when you cuddle up close to me I place one foot out the bed and the other in the streets. Red Lines, Brown and Blue. Took a marker to these windows to dream another you.

I've been singing the blues that brought me to you.

I look like a victim. Slender, skinned and scarred. My eyes run a deep brown, almost black just like my finger tips. I dipped them in ink and tried to write myself a book is what I told you. The truth was I painted myself a portrait and all I found was shit. I tugged at my rings, hemalyte and too small for my fingers. Nothing ever comes off of me once it gets in. That goes for hearts and hymns. You sung once into my ear and told me "Keep this a secret", I obliged and fixed my collar finding my way in the darkness of your heart. You laughed and said my shirt was too tight "A little small, for such a big man, eh?" The colors of my button down were burgundy, gray and a gum-colored pink. Your hand ran against my leg and I felt my phone shift in my pocket. Vibrating against my thigh, the softness of your touch ignited the phone calls that I never wanted to answer. "When will you be home? I miss you. I want you." in one long run on sentence. My face pressed against your pillow where I smelled the cigarettes and hands of a million other souls luckier then me. The girls you kissed. The boys you dissed and I found it in myself to never care. You stained my pillow case. My voice never gets above a whisper, a scream that gets drowned out by the love around me. I want it, like I want you. Brown eyes and raven hair, and your shirt was made by American apparel. Clinging to every inch of you that you wanted me to see. The same with your jeans, over the curves, just stopping above the tattoos on your hips. I wanted to die. Lips are pressed and locked and mashed until all thats left are two bodies, formless and true. Laying next to you gets my mind off of everything I can't have. Laying with you makes me regret ever seeing you. I'm remembering cold winter nights on your front porch where you told me I'll always dress for summer even when it's cold outside. Button downs and hooded shirts in the middle of a snow storm. I fell off the bed in hopes of falling out of love. Crawled my way to the door and snuck into the Northside streets, every street light reinforcing that secrets never stay in the dark. Red Line home and out your heart. I'll see you in another life.


dreams arent something i have much of
between the ringing in my ears
from the grenade in my heart
writing goodbyes and hellos in boxes that get x'd
looking for o's
wanting this bed for one
to be looking for two
or maybe just a post-it note
on my arm.

my head feels like its made of cotton swabs.

It's all comparable to roman candles, the explosion, the lights, the silence and darkness that follows the eruption. We all went out in a hail of lights and now that the show is over I don't know if i'm comfortable with the after effects.

I want to go to home.
roadtripping, daytripping, robotripping my way through the comfort of your room, painted blue, wide eyed. Bright sunny skies keep us indoors, behind smoke grey blinds that pulled to a close as you disrobe, the black shirt that hides your northern pallor, not tan but a darker shade of white. I'm not too white, at least thats what my skin says but my friends say differently through laughs, and I don't mind much seeing that I don't care much about anything or anyone until I have to, laying up in a hospital bed I figured out that the more you pay attention to the death rattle, the more you see the spirit leave the body, like the night I watched her die on that white sheet amongst the mother, the family and me, not crying but desperately believing that I could see her breathe and that the doctors had made a mistake, but in this world I know I can't come back once someone pulls my number unless I hide behind like a coward and prolong this until I can't prolong it any longer. I kiss your lips, soft because I don't want to bruise them, red, deep red, like the underwear you wear, wore, over your knees to the ankles, little thoughts, big thoughts, I don't know, I don't know, I just know I'd like it better if you were with me. Parents. My dad has a girlfriend. Your mom has a husband. My heart has an ache. X's and O's. Black and blue ink stains where my lips used to be. Fuck. Fucked.
I want to go to home.