you've got it so wrong.

i know i've been chasing happiness for as long as you've known me.
but still. baby. you're nowhere near good enough to be my pouting, posing, 60's throwback, jagger-swaggering indie boy.

untitled.

you took my words
and scribbled
that which i
would never have written.
you took my art
and created
that which i
would never have drawn.
you took my dreams
and aroused
that which i
would never have permitted.
you took my phonetics
and spoke
that which i
would never have pronounced.

you took my adoration
and reciprocated
that which i
could only have desired.

hendrix.

"i used to live in a room full of mirrors; and all i could ever see was me. i took my spirit and i crashed my mirrors, now the whole world is here for me to see."

sartre ii.

"if only i could prevent myself from thinking. i musnt think. i dont want to think. i think that i dont want to think. i mustnt think that i dont want to think. because, well, that is still a thought. will there never be an end to it?"

pleasure.

i need to see.
i never saw.
your need for me.
your passion raw.
i need to hear.
what i never heard.
against my ear.
your dirty word.
i need your haste.
to pull me out.
i need your taste.
on my mouth.

1984.

sick of big brother.
and the 1984 mentality.
there's little sympathy on my part.
as i watch you follow
behind
the biggest fucker.
but it's ok.
because she's the one who
sparkles
the most.

running.

my lover is awakening. he is leaving me. packs up his guitar and his paraphenalia.
his heart feels unloved. although it isnt. but his soul is tortured. he is running always from old age, religion and the tax man.