“I’m not psychotic. I just like psychotic things.” –Gerard Way
How macabre is my mind
Just like a grizzly nightmare
Here, sanity is hard to find
I sit alone and bide my time
I find myself just sitting there
How macabre is my mind
Sometimes I feel colorblind
Sometimes I can’t find any air
Here, sanity is hard to find
All my thoughts are intertwined
Sometimes it all too much to bear
How macabre is my mind
But I will come out redefined
As everyone likes to stare
Here, sanity is hard to find
I am a jewel, now refined
But be careful--beware
How macabre is my mind
Here, sanity is hard to find
Monday, November 15, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
When Life Sets You Free
Free is never being told you have to do your hair a certain way
Free is never being told you’re not normal
Free is being able to run wildly through the woods—going nowhere in particular
Free is your first sip of dirty creek water—the best kind
Free is being wrapped in the arms of the lover your parents hate
Free is walking barefoot through the tall grass
Free is never being told “Be home by 10!”
Free is speeding down the highway wit three friends you just made
Free is that feeling of loneliness you feel your first night alone
Free is working part-time trying to save for an apartment
Free is $40,000 a year for classes you’re now failing
Free is changing your major five times
Free is falling in love with someone ad not caring what your Mom might say
Free is being content living off of blue-box macaroni and cup ramen
Free is making decisions for yourself for once
Free is figuring out who you really are
Free is having nothing yet, but having everything now
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Flying to Feel Alive
Against my better judgment
I found myself in that car.
We didn’t care about crashing.
We didn’t care about police.
We were just flying down the highway.
It felt like we were flying.
In that time of flying,
I must have lost all judgement.
Going 80 down the highway
In a little bullet car.
We never did see any police.
There was no sign of crashing.
I wasn’t until later I even thought about crashing.
All I felt was flying
Past the trees and grazing deer, never fearing the police.
Now there was no time for silly judgement
Only laugher filled that tiny car.
I felt alive on that dark highway.
It was only us ripping down that highway.
There was no way we’d end up crashing.
In that moment, the whole world was that car.
Who knew that, still tires to the asphalt, I could be flying?
That’s something that takes skewed judgement.
But we would be judged, if only by the police.
Who are these police?
Just Nazis of the highway.
And that is my judgement.
If we had ended up crashing,
Would we had been sent flying
Through the glass of that little black car?
Just change gears again; trust the car.
Nothing can stop us, not the police.
I want to stay flying
Down that dark old highway
With no thought of crashing.
No second thought; no mortal judgement.
It takes all your judgement driving that car.
Crashing never entered our thoughts as we looked out for police.
We were plowing down that highway– flying.
I found myself in that car.
We didn’t care about crashing.
We didn’t care about police.
We were just flying down the highway.
It felt like we were flying.
In that time of flying,
I must have lost all judgement.
Going 80 down the highway
In a little bullet car.
We never did see any police.
There was no sign of crashing.
I wasn’t until later I even thought about crashing.
All I felt was flying
Past the trees and grazing deer, never fearing the police.
Now there was no time for silly judgement
Only laugher filled that tiny car.
I felt alive on that dark highway.
It was only us ripping down that highway.
There was no way we’d end up crashing.
In that moment, the whole world was that car.
Who knew that, still tires to the asphalt, I could be flying?
That’s something that takes skewed judgement.
But we would be judged, if only by the police.
Who are these police?
Just Nazis of the highway.
And that is my judgement.
If we had ended up crashing,
Would we had been sent flying
Through the glass of that little black car?
Just change gears again; trust the car.
Nothing can stop us, not the police.
I want to stay flying
Down that dark old highway
With no thought of crashing.
No second thought; no mortal judgement.
It takes all your judgement driving that car.
Crashing never entered our thoughts as we looked out for police.
We were plowing down that highway– flying.
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