For the last fifty miles I've been trying to write
To the tempo of turn signals.
And I'm not getting very far, regardless of how fast I drive.

This car is filling up with smoke
I can't see past my own nose
But it's feeding me with all the right notes.

My eyes are fighting sleep
And these headlights flickering
Aren't helping.

I'll write a book of my mistakes one day, and laugh at all the ones I've made, but today I think I'd rather forget everything. I'm in my room, the door is closed. I'm on my bed in all my clothes. The window's open but the breeze is low. I could throw my pen and paper, and I feel like it would wait there, cuz the air's so dead I might just float away.

Can I get high enough so life's just a constant drop til I'm content with it?

Can I see black so dark that light's a brand new start?

Can I stop asking questions and find the answers?

I doubt it.

I haven't really written in a while...

If you couldn't tell, but especially lyrics, which is weird to me. It's probably because my love life has taken a sharp turn towards dormancy, but I'm sure I'll get around to being inspired sometime soon (I hope).

This is what I got for the day, I'm going to try and write something every day, regardless of how trivial or out of my normal range for style. And I'm reading a lot more often, too; so hopefully I improve.

I know the world won't stop,
I've sat and watched the clock
For hours but it knows
Where we're gonna go.
And I know it won't miss my footprints
I doubt it'll make a difference
But I'm stomping hard to leave my mark
I've got a ways to go but I've come damn far.
And I haven't lost a drop of blood from my heart.

Freewriting.

From the moment Rene opened his eyes, he was already too eager it to go back to sleep. Even the crust that always covered his eyes in the morning seemed to slide off of his face and separate the shades from the window enough to display the parallel lines of life squeezing into his equally sleepy room.

This morning wasn't even different, it was routine and repetitive: work, dinner, work, practice; it's just that this morning was supposed to be special, because it was his birthday.

There were 3 messages on his cell phone's answering machine when he woke up. One was from his mother, who he loved more than anyone, and respected, because she'd put up with more than anyone should have when he was younger. He was going to visit her before work, today. The second was from two of his best friends, Dan and Adam. After Rene had left his band's practice space the night before, Dan and Adam stuck around and left Rene a message around 4 am. It was hard to understand, but Rene was pretty sure it was supposed to be a rap version of the traditional birthday song. The third message was from Rene's sister, and there were quite a few text messages to be acknowledged on the way to his mother's house.

Now all he had to do was get out of bed.

Hey, long time no talk... I have tons of new stuff, but I'm also gonna start doing this again at least once a week, if not every night, just a vent thing but in a creative motive.

My new band, Cassela, is doing great, but college is separating us like no other and it's rough.

Okay, here's something I'm randomly spitting out.

The television rants on in the corner, screaming out subtleties
Droning in the ears of the everyone in the room, like numbers in a crowd
When you believe in anything, you're a majority,
For so many people barely believe in anything that you've got an edge.
The television could be hope to some, and demise to others,
But to all... it's a waste.

New song.

It's been a while since I've shown my face around here, but I wanted to share for anyone still looking.

Faint lights on the surface make staring easy
But they flicker, and so do my eyes.
It's hard to keep my attention steady
When even the ocean isn't as pretty as you.

I'm thinking of taking a swim, taking it all in.
To replace a home I've known all my life.
And as the water washes my worries, drenching my skin,
I'm reminded of how it feels to be dry...

Chorus:
Don't cry, the speaker's in stereo
And hearing this makes it twice as hard to let you go.
I've had all that I can take of this discontent
It's so depressing that I'm leaving empty-handed.

Bright lights move across the horizon line
And make it easy to lose track of time
It's hard to keep my mind off leaving
But you're doing a good job of holding me home.

Bridge (no lyrics, catchy guitar line)

Chorus+
Oh so depressing
Oh so... how I'm leaving home.






You name it. I got nothing.

So

I got an LJ again...

www.livejournal.com/~thru_beingcool

Well, same one as always.

But, I don't know it'll be 50/50 on which I use certain things for.

This mostly for creative writing, that mostly for rants. But the creative writing will probably go in both.

Just an FYI post.