Concentrated Irony
Elevated FUPA
Drivel difficulties
The Silent Scrunchie
Drunk and Pugless
Beard Nutrients
Wild Gesticulations
Angry Pete and the Dick Pains
Sport Kilt
Tochi's Night Out
-RTB
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Revel
There is a pride we savior in wallowing in our own unique sorrow. A rhythm. A deliciousness to it that we revel in. That secretly or not so, we crave. We want to have adverse reactions to our old love songs, cautiously avoid the paths we used to trod through whatever city. We want to put distance between re-experiencing those memories and emotions. We want our heart to whither as we think about those songs. We want it to be toxic illegal awfality.
-RTB
-RTB
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Because I have a deadline
And its rising
Like a hot air balloon
Full of cold insecurity
An unchained melody
Sitting in a gasless car
And I'm paralyzed
paralytics
Analytic
And stuck inside myself
Like cement for blood
Like fog for breath
An unbeating heart
glued to the inside of my chest
Palpitated resurgencies
And unforgettable fears
Always rising
The fastest slowest march of madness
And a pressure on both sides of my chest
A violence of memory
And incomparable fear
Fed and starved
Watered and withheld
And all without my control
And all without control
Like a muscle that can't flex
And a tear that won't fall
A fall that won't arrive
An exhale stuck in transit
An inhallation
A kept inhallation
remaining
stuck
trapped
contained
and killing
killing without force
and leaving me nowhere
without leaving me at all
-RTB
Like a hot air balloon
Full of cold insecurity
An unchained melody
Sitting in a gasless car
And I'm paralyzed
paralytics
Analytic
And stuck inside myself
Like cement for blood
Like fog for breath
An unbeating heart
glued to the inside of my chest
Palpitated resurgencies
And unforgettable fears
Always rising
The fastest slowest march of madness
And a pressure on both sides of my chest
A violence of memory
And incomparable fear
Fed and starved
Watered and withheld
And all without my control
And all without control
Like a muscle that can't flex
And a tear that won't fall
A fall that won't arrive
An exhale stuck in transit
An inhallation
A kept inhallation
remaining
stuck
trapped
contained
and killing
killing without force
and leaving me nowhere
without leaving me at all
-RTB
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
History is full of examples of people who didn't discover their real creative abilities until they discovered the media in which they thought best. - Sir Ken Robinson