the last thing i think of before i fall asleep and the first thing i think of when i wake

regardless of what stars i end up under- for the best and for the worst- you have made me who i am. and i try to make myself more decent and better only because of you.

happybirthday.

everytime i get up he follows under my heels, no matter how asleep he is.

as i run away from everything i have ever known. just whisper in my ear:

"and the tears come streaming down your face
when you lose something you can't replace
when you love some one but it goes to waste
could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
High up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home"

so obvious. so much more brilliant than i could ever imagine to be.
be bright and shine. its dark. im sorry ive come so off course.
tell the pilot to clear us to land in your backyard.

and we conspire against ourselves. ("are you lying?" only if her lips are moving).

you spend every waking moment and many sleeping ones thinking of one heart, one person. you let it slip, they let it slip. who knows where it all begins or ends. but as it falls to pieces you keep grabbing them and collecting them less like for a museum of things that used to matter and more like you are going to keep putting it back together. except there are always a few pieces missing each time. deep breaths. slow your heart beat. the road winds. there was a time before you always felt like this. try to remember pete. you are being pulled in every direction. everything is bigger under the microscope. you want it to be simple. you make it complicated. "hey, pete- i am middle ground. how come we've never met before". sometimes i wish i could re-engineer the path from my heart to the tip of my tongue and let my head have a shot at it. i dont got big dreams, i just want to be okay. it comes down to my word versus your word versus the worlds word and i dont think i want to anymore. im worn out. my head is full, my eyes are empty. the dog loves the salt in the corners of my eyes and on my cheeks- i am nervous about cutting it from his diet. and i could never take care of him the way you could. i am a mess and have no idea, ever. i am constantly reminded of how much better i could and should be, and jealous of it, from the children on the street walking hand in hand with their mothers to the homeless man content with his world of a bench. and noone knows the way i spend my nights counting the individuals grains in the tiles in the bathroom, the coolness of the floor the only comfort- or if anyone does they dont want to hear it, i cant blame you... i dont even want to hear it anymore. in the mornings the world is blurry. it comes in and out of focus. this is when its the worst. when i awake from a dream to realize that none of it was real, possibly ever.

one of the only things stranger than realizing you are along in this world, is realizing that you are not.

pupils the size of baby worlds.

every bad decision is put on file for later viewing. mapquest your way back to me, take a turn for the worse and then continue for .5 miles.

i want to file a restraining order against myself.

and i want to be myself again looking at my reflection in your eyes from the first time i failed you. i am nostalgic for disaster. i want it back.

he sleeps sound. he has no care for what buzzes and changes in the world around him.

because of this i envy him.

run away from a city because of one single heartbeat. it doesnt make sense.

its not that i dont trust you, actually it is. and i dont trust myself when i think of you. i sell myself out.

i wish you were awake right now. i just want to let myself be happy.

we used to talk on the phone every single day (nooneknowshowitreallygoes).

its strange the way people will window shop on your life or score it for style and grace.

my personality and everything about me is just a carefully constructed collage of magazine articles and flashy pictures.

i am (not) real.

the puppy is purple after spilling a grape soda on himself. he then ate the tropic of cancer by miller. paperback, so i guess it went down easier.

sometimes the days spent all by myself in my head are the scariest.

its enough to make you want to pack it up and call it a day.

all i can do is read and write and wait.

ihavecodedmessagesforyou.aretheygettingthrough.

my phone cuts out in the same place every single day ("the gospel of gossip").

it feels like there is so much to say.
but it can only be said in songs.

please dont go so quickly.

"The city with fires of night seemed an archipelago
    Women asked the love and for the dulie
    But in my eyes of male horror I remember
    The busy ones of the evening were never pretty

    Then the day returned but sometimes without sun
    To draw up the houses coast at coast at the edge of the streets
    Where our lives with the other similar lives are mislaid
    Lives trailing their shade while passing in the street

    Intercalated in the year they was widowed days
    Bloody and slow Fridays of burials
    White and whole blacks come from the skies which cry
    When the woman of the devil beat her lover"

guillame appolinaire


send me a flashlight. i cant seem to find my faith.
iwishicould.

i am a lazy sunday afternoon.

me and you and a view.

the fraternal order of the handsome boy.

ive been watching you from afar
my breath on the inside window as you walk in from the car
candy caned lies in red and white against clashing patterns bending in and out of understanding.
"youre the stranger ive been dreaming of", stranger than any ive ever known.
love through a telescopic lens. when the air is clear i can see how perfect you are for me.
late at night when the city sleeps i cast a spell on you
to make you think of me the very same way i think of you.
i only love how the words feel in my head when i write them.
fireworks over the valley.
how can i tell you i gut people for a living.
that everything you say is likely to end up as evidence when i rewrite history.
over and over again.
how everything you do reminds me of something else, someone else.
how i get paid to be humble and arrogant at the same time,
to be chased and never caught.
that i just want to stay up late and wake up early to talk to you.
that i want to show you all of my jealousy and insecurity and have you not care.
youre like a light switch and i just want to turn you on and watch them all shrink away.
the words come out of my fingertips on impulse. it is instinct.
my head cant keep up.
i envy the comatose. i admire the bedridden.

i am addicted to the way i feel when i think of you.


"im blowing smoke rings around the moon...."

i wish i was the exact opposite of how the world knows me.

im so sorry, but not really. ('straighten up and die right').

i said i want to be rebuilt like a frank lloyd wright only without all of the water damage.
or painted over like a monet only less blurry.
she said "no, youre something different".
like what?
"something better".
it gave me the rush of warm blood like you see in cartoon dogs right before their eyes pop out and all of the bells go off.
my head is spinning like a car off of an icy guardrail.
show me what you are made of.
your eyes were always rolling but youd tilt your head so they were somehow always still stuck on me (have your cake and eat it too).
i feel safe but not like a bet more like the way mothers feel when the lock the car doors in bad neighborhoods.
i am blue waves across the red rootlike veins in the bodies drawn flat in medical books. i wonder at the way that someone can write thousands and thousands of pages about my insides.
when i met you i gave you a name- not your own- but in my head so i wouldnt ever mix you up with anyone so ordinary- i cant tell you- but to me it meant salvation.
you only wanted reaction.
but i cant be bothered.
not anymore.
ill see you in the spring. first pew on the left. wear your white veil and dont forget the words.

warped tour. sun drenched days. bestfriends. new roads.

so long salvation.

dont worry your pretty little heads.

i am sleeping safe tonight.

his and hers.

sometimes i cant wait to be forgotten.

i wish i could put up an away message in real life and just go to sleep forever.

sex and the city (the part theyll never tell you)

its strange here this time of year. because the weather never changes.
it is always summer here. so it doesnt feel like the same desperate love of these three pages on the calander. or at least not what i am used to.
patrick and i wrote a song yesterday. not a hit single or maybe anything that would even turn your head.
but this song feels alright. from my ankles to the ends of the hair on my head.
noone knows how it goes.
sometimes the worst wishes are the ones that come true.
yellow and white lines to the coast.
you can learn to love anything if its around enough.
some people learn to love their mistakes.
shakes hands. "thank you, our time is up".
what keeps you coming back?
i got a long rap sheet.
(the statute of limitations is running out on you pretty fast).
the powders wet. the sparks arent coming.
the hammer isnt hitting. its spinning.
you can learn to love anything.