[ 12 Aug 2004|01:10am ] Relocation: noise__stix

Mister, you're on fire, mister [ 09 Jul 2004|09:32pm ] [ music | denali ] My mom gets a phone call at 1 in the morning (of today) telling us that my Grandma's house had caught fire and she was rushed to the hospital. So, we get in the car and drive down to her house. I honestly didn't think it was that bad until we showed up and there were 6 firetrucks. I walked up to the pathway and could just see inside the front of the house. The windows were blown out and the house was just so charred that everything was black. My younger sister, Nono(12), had a paralyzed chihuahua, Mini Me, living with my grandma to help recover. ( burn baby )

[ 22 May 2004|01:06am ] I've had it. With everyone. And everything. Please, just leave.

[ 17 May 2004|11:46pm ] I want to have a crush on someone. ( it's there, somewhere )

You don't look so well, dear. [ 16 May 2004|11:40pm ] [ music | the deers ] My teeth chipped glass/ The shower door/ Your hair made snakes/ The bathroom floor I liked the dark/ You liked it more/ You danced with me/ Like a fucking whore There's rain outside/ There's fire inside/ There's that wall/ We like to hide Rainbows drawn on cardboard boxes/ Tastes like paste I see your face/ This mirror/ This bed This rug/ This car/ I bumped my head It's fuzzy/ Fuzzy/ Focus, now You don't look so well dear No, you don't look so well No, I can't hear so well dear No, I've lost an ear You're singing/ Singing/ Break it, now Break dead glances/ Shake it down My teeth chipped skin/ Your sex is vile/ Your hands made snakes/ You're on speed dial I heard that song/ I watched the phone/ Your number is fucking monotone Voice messages written in story books/ Folded like tinfoil I'm waiting here You're lying here The spies are here They're liars, dear Put on your headphones Drown out the sound Keep touching Drown out the sound High strung/ Strung out/ High hopes/ Drop high doubt I'm waiting here/ it's gotten late/ You're waiting there/ With paper plates Don't microwave/ You'll puke up chunks/ Like bulemia queens/ and ghostly drunks I'm waiting here/ It's gotten late/ Take the train/ Be here by eight I watched for you in the doorway/ I watched the eight The 9 ate 10/ Fucked the men/ Started back at base again It's gotten late These nights have gotten late for you But tonight I knew that train died in it's sleep/ While your dream engine filled with aids and bullshit The saddest thing/ You'll always know Those awful things we said And I'm sorry that I said/ That we were just good friends The sweetest thing/ You'll never know I waited past 13 He didn't sell out You don't look so well, dear And I could slap some fucking color onto you And force you to kiss me with your oragami tongue Bent double/ You can't move anymore But the clock is a disaster When the routines grow faster And when imagination Takes over the master

The Rotation Never Stops [ 06 May 2004|04:27pm ] You try like beasts But you just can't Hold your tongue While you're trying to pant You avoid passion When sex tastes like tart You throw away All your sexual parts Torn couches that know they're through Oh, dearest boy, what to do with you The cheese is still mold Even though you ate the mice The head is still sick Even though you killed the lice The story's still told Even though you've heard it twice The body still folds Even though it stiffens nice Break out Break up Make out Make up Rewind Reverse Design Rehearse Stop playing. Stop. Stop playing. Dear Routine: You officially suck. Lick my tarantula cunt. Love, Bauer

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