she scrubs at a dinner plate with a clump of hair and tells her boy she is not balding.  the most harmful part of her satisfactory conclusion is the offhand detail of how her brain no longer needs a straw.  the boy squeezes himself shut.  his father is a phrase he can recount.  in my coffin I am a withered leg.  he envisions a christmas tree no bigger than a toddler’s crutch and a cow nudging a deer awake with its nose.  sleeping deer, I would eat the babies but fear I’ll have nothing to eat.  either god is distant or has an increasing phobia of the next moment.  three people

are one
hearing two

sob.

Entrancing as the view is
It's like watching silent movies
Where overly painted faces
Gesticulate with solemn graces
Open to interpretation
Until the words appear
Surrounded by fanciful borders
Innocuously proclaiming
The weather is fine today, m'dear
And you laugh anyway
Because what they just said
Is not how it sounded in your head
Especially because how they are dressed
Lord forgive my misconstruing
a torrid expression so ambiguous
It eclipsed my ubiquitousness
I'm just trying to understand
From the arms that are flying
and the cheeks that are burning
Without the words inferring
If it will be a fine day today
or
If the world has finally stopped turning

I need the words to come first
Before the screen scene
Or else I'll laugh, when I should cry
To be misunderstood feels obscene

I spent drunken walks
saying I love you into a made bed
into a moving train
a locked gate
like the mortared bricks could hear me.

The Christmas lights shone on wet face droplets
happy tears of nothing.

And if you were never coming back
I would never cry out loud
and it was the first time a love would never feel crippled.

Beneath her ****** purple eyes the bandages unwind
Reveal the fruit of every hit she's taken to her mind
A stripe away from damages that cannot be undone
She whispers in her timidness, you are the only one
The seeker floats around the words she speaks into the night
And she can feel a quiet breeze solidify their flight
I'll be there soon, I'll watch the moon, I'll travel back to you
The bruises heal and she appears, she finds him withered too
I've missed the conversations we have carried through the years
A hope, a light, dynamic sounds surrendering my ears
I want to bounce until the day we reach the second stair
Repel the dark and sorry things that tangle up your hair
And so the strands were compromised, she let the pieces fall
Upon the fringe of sacrifice she floated through the wall

I bet you thought I didn't have anything left in the tank.  Bet you thought that I was done giving mind blowing advice on how to approach this crazy thing we call life.  Well...you were wrong.


1.  Often cases, how good a story you end up with is inversely proportional to how good a decision it was that led to it.  Don't be afraid to make some bad decisions every once in awhile, because those are the stories you're gonna be telling for years to come.  Even when you know it's a bad decision.  Sure, you might wake up naked in a ditch on the New Jersey turnpike with a some blurry memories, a hangover, a tattoo of some girl named Francesca on your chest, and an ounce of black-tar ****** shoved up your ***...but you know what?  You started this little adventure at a black-tie dinner party in Santa Monica, so I'm willing to bet some interesting **** happened between here and then.

2.  Don't be someone who never breaks the mold.  When you're lying on your death bed and someone asks you to tell them about your life, do you want to lean over and whisper to them that you always did exactly what people expected?  That you carefully listened for society's cues on how to represent yourself at every point in your life?  **** no.  You want to tell them you broke off the road and went searching for the oddities that this world has to offer. You want to tell them that you gave the ******* to society and did what you wanted because, you know what?  It's your ******' life and you only get one shot at it, so you might as well make it memorable.  Being normal is boring as hell.

3.  Talk to everyone.  Talk to them about uncomfortable things.  Talk to them about their hopes and dreams.  Talk to them about their fears.  Just ****** talk to them.  Real conversations always leave you with something you didn't had before.  Real conversations make you think about your positions.  Get passionate when you talk.  Challenge their views and allow yours to be challenged as well.  Do you think you know everything?  Yeah, I bet you do.  Why aren't you out solving everyone's problems then, you selfish *******.

4.  Whoever you are, be proud of that.  If you're not proud of who you are, chances are you arent happy with yourself.  If you're not happy with who you are, change something.  If you're still not happy, change something else.  Still not happy?  Guess what.  Change another ******' thing. Are you happy?  Good.  Now change something else anyway, because an interesting life isn't built on stagnation.

I hope you've all learned something today.

Also, I'd like to remind you to never take advice from strangers on the Internet.  That's just stupid.

When the rooster calls before the sun has broken the horizon, does it wish you a good morning and kiss you on your forehead, or does it remind you that you’ve survived another night and have seen a new sunrise?

Does your bed push you out into the cold or hold you in its blanket arms and tell you to stay?

Is your wrist in need of cleansing from the dried blood that stains your skin after making love to a thin razor blade in the wee hours of morning, or do you pat yourself on the back because you said “no” instead of letting it **** you?

When you brush your teeth and stare at the reflection in the mirror, does the smeared mascara that’s ran down your cheeks trigger the waterfall of new tears to wash away what reminded you that you lived?

Does your bed call you to its arms, the blankets rub your back and your pillow catch your tears?

Do you surrender again to the razor blade in the comfort of your bed’s love?