HIS
she's lying in my bed so pretty
sometime during sleep
she pulled the blanket up over her head
but i can still see some strands of loose hair
reaching for the pillow's edge
i'm watching her so pretty
curled up like a kitten
under blankets that move up and down
s l o w l y
with each breath
i hear a sigh so pretty
wander out into the still of morning silence
her scent is pressed into my sheets
and when she leaves
she'll leave it there
the faint ghost of lavender
to wrap me up in memories so pretty
they'll keep me sane each night that we're apart
i'll miss her much so pretty
but she's coming back
so pretty…

HERS
he holds me in his arms
close and hard against him
with a grip so tight and warm and safe
my arms' embrace whispers back
don't let me go
don't let me go
i bury my head in the warm nook of his neck
kissing his ear
a tease, a silent plea
for Time to cease
so i don't have to leave
because everything's so wonderful
so perfect
when he is near
don't let me go
don't let me go
our bodies move together
in lovers' dance
a sacred conversation
and underneath the mattress groans
don't let me go
don't let me go…

-L.

never put your soul
into someone you dont know
because when you turn round you see your frown
yet all the while a smile
you feign

youre drowning in this place
yet its all voluntary
what you thought you once loved
your partridge...your dove
is nothing more than a part time friend
...your blindness must be hereditary

its time for a change so you go all the way
only to find out that youre the stray,
youre lost in this world without a trace
of the light of your love...no sign of her face
her favorite roses...the sunset she'd say

ive been a bit out of place
...imagining things again
comes with the territory i guess...

----------------------------------------------------------------------

i can see the smile upon your face
all at once falling from its place
your image slowly fades from my mind
a symbol of the love you left behind

you pulled me in but you really through me out
you made me sure while filling me with doubt
youre the only one who gave me a chance
and now you send me home
yeah thats romance

why did you have to let me go
when only yesterday you loved me so
none of this is making any sense
was it ever love or only false pretense

you took my dark and turned it into light
you were the only one who made things right
you became my muse when i needed hope
and now you send me home
yeah what a joke

-D

edit: emo remarks...lol

"money doesnt talk it swears...obscenity who really cares....propaganda all is phony..." --bob dylan
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you walk onto the crowded street...only looking at your feet and all at once you start to see the people...free...set off to meet and talk and be...time goes by and this goes on but then you see theres nothing more...and you turn to run but then again....they grab you in...door to door....

beating faster and faster still....youre trapped within against your will...these stepford wives have got you son...and when you reach for you gun...they lull you in with talk of green...money...change...its all the same....and yet you came....and came again...

throw it off and run outside...only to find youve got nothing to hide...pick up yourself for one more round...this time you wont end on the ground....youve seen this hell...this shopping spree...for the latest fad..starched and pressed theyre all the same...conformity's the game...but you wont go down that way....youll change it all...make them see....

-D

i want to write something...............
but i keep distracting myself. correcting myself.
have you ever watched the line on the screen eat each letter of each word of each sentence of each thought as you press the backspace button? it's almost more beautiful than a poem. a painless destruction.

destruction is creation.
(remember that?
we know this better than most.)

(i owe you a thanks, dear...without you, my destruction would be nothing more than that - destruction.)


-L.

A year ago today we went ghosthunting together for the first time.
That was the day we began.

Happy Anniversary, love.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 

-L

(i wrote this 6 months ago and i don't think i ever let you read it)

[Thursday, June 30, 2005]

Against the pale blue the tangerine roses are beautiful
they bring out the stars of van gogh
and brighten the room like a sunrise
painted with love's golden hues
refreshing as
a cool mint color green
i am pacified and calm
there are things i have not told you
but they're trivial and dumb
facts about a person i used to be
when i was not so fully me
they don't matter
anymore
they are like umbrellas on a sunny day, bulky burdens
besides
we've got our ponchos
they can keep us from any storm

under my bed are the monsters
i put them there myself
i thought
"that way they won't scare me"
but they do
late at night when i'm cold and alone
and your arms, your voice,
you
aren't there to protect me
latenight memories of loneliness
but the pain is not so profound
they all failed remarkably well
to be honest
i don't know where i'm going with this
i'm just trying to distract myself from the fear

you told me to write a poem
about the zipper effect of two merging lanes of traffic
after i pointed out
the remarkable way the cars came together
like something so ordinary, every-day
as zipping up your pants or a jacket
well there it is
i can't go any further
there's nothing else to say.

-L

He wasnt sure how the bathroom mirror worked
but decided it must be powered
by the razorblades and aspirin
he found in the engine compartment.

It was a matter of relearning everything
after he surfaced from the coma.

The hospital chapel had bought a battered
fog machine from a local heavy metal band
that broke up after disputes about
viking iconography.

Sitting in the back row, he began to pray
for his roommate, suffering
under the multi-variable complexity of back pain.

Clouds of steam drifted around his ankles.

-D

In the airport bar, I tell my mother not to worry.
No one ever tripped and fell into the San Andreas
Fault. But as she dabs at her dry eyes, I remember
those old movies where the earth does open.

There's always one blonde entomologist, four
deceitful explorers, and a pilot who's good-looking
but not smart enough to take off his leather jacket
in the jungle.

Still, he and Dr. Cutie Bug are the only ones
who survive the spectacular quake because
they spent their time making plans to go back
to the Mid-West and live near his parents

while the others wanted to steal the gold and ivory
then move to Los Angeles where they would rarely
call their mothers and almost never fly home
and when they did for only a few days at a time.

-D

start living not just existing
----------------------------------------------------------------------
a thought occurs :

my dear, it appears that we are apparitions of the phusebox nature...once ghosthunters, now ghosts...two souls entwined and forever lost to the masses...

being ghosts we cannot be denied certain rights long past due...i was just kinda...i dunno...maybe if you wanted to...sorta...haunt people together...maybe..only if you wanna...im really nervous...its my first time... :)

an experiment of social influence:

the past beckons at every turn, but we are safe...no longer being of their world...this past...these people who haunted our lives now grasp in vain at that which no longer remains...

they chose not to see us then, they cannot see us now...

   ghost1: "mommy, there are people in my closet..."                             

   ghost2: (mumbles)"damn kids...go to bed cecil! everybody knows that people arent real..."
  
   ghost1: "but timmy's dad said he sees them everywhere!"
   ghost2: "timmy's dad is a hippie...he sees lots of things..."
   ghost1: "mommy...whats a...hippeee?"
   ghost2: "a hippie is someone who doesnt bathe...now go to bed!"
   ghost1: "mommy i dont wanna bathe!"
   ghost2: "LOOK! Theres a person in your closet!"
   ghost1: "..."
   ghost2: "lol...noob"

through this week we have been reborn...but these people wont see us, they cant...a life purged of its past...this is my gift to you...

-D

four months into the relationship with phusebox...
i just noticed that, after signing in, it says "You are the_luckiest" and that makes me smile because the internet is telling me that i am the luckiest and, i dunno...nice reminder? or maybe just really cool...
:)
chyeah.

-L

I smell bad :)

-D

It just seems like this place needs an update.

So here it is.

[insert update here]

yay!

here's to ten amazing months...

i can tell when you get restless.
it makes me restless [nervous, anxious] too.

what can i say? it's a knee-jerk reaction.

...

also, everything is based on perception.
but we know this.

-L.

let me clear my throat.
this is D in for L...i dont do this much.

i capitalized L and D because theyre the only letters that matter.

i tend to talk too much which is why i dont do this but im going to share something with you...what we think of as "reality" basically consists of a chain of moments
that we experience. these moments are infinitely small and pass by us
instantaneously so they all kind of blur into one. once a moment is
experienced, it disappeares forever. however, if something is
infinitely small timewise, it is basically nonexistent. so, individual
moments are essentially nonexistent, but added together they form what
we consider reality. so if reality is the culmination of basically
nonexistent instantaneous moments, does that mean that it is also
basically nonexistent? our states of being and thought disappear just
as quickly as they emerge, even if there are a large number of them to
make it seem like it takes a long time. my point is...dont waste time reading this...if you die now the last thing you did was read this...and that just sucks...

DL out.

Excluding today...

• If you're at that high school place, you've got 11 days left of school until Thanksgiving break.


• If you're at that big people school place, you've got 12 school days left.

And there are 50 shopping days left until Christmas.

Also, this semester is almost over. : )

"I think we dream so we don't have to be apart so long. If we're in each other's dreams, we can be together all the time."

- [from Calvin and Hobbes]

Stone and star do not force their music on us,
flowers are silent, things hold something back,
because of us, animals deny
their own harmony of innocence and stealth,
the wind has always its chastity of simple gesture
and what song is only the mute birds know,
to whom you tossed an unthreshed sheaf on Christmas Eve.

To be is enough for them and that is beyond words. But we,
we are afraid not only in the dark,
even in the abundant light
we do not see our neighbour
and desperate for exorcism
cry out in terror: 'Are you there? Speak!'

-D for L

Today is absolutely Autumn. As have been the past few days. And I'm looking at the leaves no longer young and green and...y'know...I just don't remember seeing them change. When did the trees put on their fall hues, and why did I not notice? November is almost here, and I'm still stuck in summer. Too oblivious. Or perhaps too acutely aware.

And I'm looking at the people here, and I realize they're the worst kind of strangers - the kind of strangers who were friends in another life. When did they...we, I guess...learn to drive? When did we learn to work and party and fill out the applications that really matter? When did life become not just a run-through, but the real thing? Why is the future all of a sudden so close? And why am I the only one who seems to notice? I feel like Charlie from The Perks...the wallflower aspect of him, the part that observes. Y'know?

I've noticed that things seem to be so much easier for everyone not me. Granted, this is probably an unfair judgement. It's just...I keep tripping. Over the tiny details that are in no way consequential. But I trip over them and I stumble and I fall and I'm down for a while until you pick me back up and brush me off. But it keeps happening. I guess that's the problem with me...I get too hung up on all the details.

So when did Autumn get here? Why is it almost November? And why is this the first time I've noticed? 

-L.

What can I say about Bob Dylan? Well about the first time I remember
hearing anything he'd written, I was about 4 years old, and my radio
station played the Byrd's version of "Mr. Tambourine Man" alot. I LOVED
That song. I didn't understand it at all. I just really liked how it
sounded. My dad taped his 30th Anniversary concert off the TV, and one
day I watched it. I just couldn't believe the songs. He told it, and he
told it so well. His voice is so real. He isn't trying
to put anyone on, be someone he's not. He makes people listen, and
speaks to them. If I had to listen to one, and only one person's music
for the rest of my life, Bob Dylan is who it would be.