Girl Interrupted !

so, i just watched this movie.
totally fucking fucked my brain up.
it's funny how you can relate to every single scene,
ain't it ?

Among the Audience.

Standing among a crowd of many different than my own kind.
Semi out of place.
Half curios about the figure standing upon the stage in front of me.
Half dreading the drunken bodies beside me.

Mind drifting,
With the beat of his drum.
Body swaying
With the movement of the audience.
Its just funny
Because although the laughs behind me
And the leather jacketed - blunt rolling fucks in front of me,
All I can think of is you.

How much you'd enjoy the sound eminating from each speaker
In each corner.
How much you would smile at each sly comment he mumbles
While he tunes his guitar, plastic cup of whiskey in hand.
Eyes are slits.
Red curtains behind him.

The two of us would gaze at the lights shining onto his existence.
While his slurred singing stirs the clapping.
And we would stand close.
Close to each other.
Because I like the way it feels
When your body is against mine.

You may be dreaming right now.
Slight purrs from the kittens you house, at the foot of your bed.
And even though I wished you a well nights rest,
While standing on the outside of the place where his stage remains.
I savored every bit of your voice that my ear drums captured.
And I sure hope you sleep well, dear.
Because I know you work so hard.

Your heart beat is now slow.
And your breath soft, and subtle.
I wish I could run my fingers through your hair.
But well, I'm here.
Standing among a crowd many different than my own kind.
And all I can say is
I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Engineer.

All night, elevators climb the inside of buildings.
they spin round and round
waiting for you, engineer.

steel perfection is your ideal
wires strong and sturdy.
standing still while passengers of each season
aboard your carefully crafted work.
and they are pulled, up and down.
passing floors,
you wait in the basement.
'till the red light is illuminated
above the desk at which you so carefully work.

oh engineer, please be truthful.
i watched you carefully,
as you froze all of your calculations,
all of your equations.
oh engineer, solve me.
gone are all of the trees outside of the window,
placed on the wall
beside the red light
above the desk
at which you so dedicatedly slave over.

those trees were young
as you tended to tainted wires.
and their limbs grew
as you searched for simple calculations
and they became old
gawking at sparrows which rest on their extremities
as you watched
and spotted things you thought needed fixing.
soon they were free
no longer outside your window.
late at night, behind the locks
you exist among the floor boards
and quietly you sit, trying to find a way

to become as free as the trees.
oh, engineer.

i'm comfortable with who i am.

so fuck you.

it's like

i try, and sometimes i succeed.
and i try, and other times i fail.
just the way an astronaut tries to remain sitting in his seat,
while in space.

he can't.
he'll float.
fuck.
because all i want to do is just sit there.
in my command seat.
like any other astronaut.

but i just keep floating.
and he and i... we're similar.
in the fact that his white suit is just as white as mine.

but his gold pins have a little more shine.
and my eyes dance around the dashboard of our space ship.
floating.
fucking floating.

i told it to sit.
and sit damn still in my head.
but it won't.

whatever.

fucking pills.

and no matter how many small chemical imbalances are placed between my brain cells.
and make them selves at home beneath my memories, it will make no difference how many pills i take to release them.
because their at home.
and feel safe among my thoughts.
and each time i've swallowed those white fucking ovals, each small imbalance stares it in the eye and screams bloody murder.
expecting me to do something about it.
but i can't.
mom's waiting there.
watching me.
telling me to swallow.
fucking bitch.

if only, if only.

Van.

We chased the sunset in our silver minivan.
And pretended we didn't see the sly, narcotic handshake between the two bad ass mother fuckerrs on the corner of blank and blank.
And we found the hill Nick recognized from his last travel in the silver minivan.
When he took the picture of Cleveland's fine sunset, among what looked like a slaughter house.
And David grasped the steering wheel with his energy drink in hand, ceasing every sharp turn he could.
And i sat in the worn in vinyl seat, allowing my pupils to relax upon images unknown.
And Van Morrison echoed throughout my ear drums, and i thought about how nice it would be to "fly into the mystic".
However, i'm in a silver minivan with four other bodies, just as confused as mine.
And together we searched for opportunities to become similar, united, somehow connected.
And we didn't realize it, but by searching for the same thing, we were one in the same.
Connected by simple thought and through mumbled depictions and vivid vocabulary.
Part of me feels obliged to say something.
like a topic producer, a conversation starter.
but it's hard to do that when all i can do is think of her.
it's like, finding that one cd in the back of your own silver minivan, that one you'll always love, and never grow sick of.
you know the fucking one.
and each over played track is like a new set of twenty-four hours with her hand in mine.
and we could be minivan-less.
in the center of a foreign utopia.
and the common soul would feel that it would be appropriate to weep.
the perfect time to tear down the walls of the forgotten, and feel cold.
but not me.
'cause i have her.
and she makes me feel warm.