.//./..

candle wax dries so fast once taken from the main source of heat,
i wish my tears you caused did the same.

nights//

The crowd is restless, and they have been for the past hour and a half. Nothing can soothe this craving; not even the fairly decent openers. We’ve all been waiting in silence for over 30 minutes, except for the murmurs of hushed voices. Finally the lights begin to dim, and that oh so familiar introduction begins to play. I can’t even hear my own screams, all the voices behind me are completely deafening. The silhouettes of four men appear in front of me, not even ten feet away. If I weren’t this aggressive, I would have never gotten to the front. Thank goodness. The blaring lights shoot back on, perfectly framing the faces of my own personal gods. Then, the voice I’ve heard so many times speaks: “Hello, we’re The Matches.” The screams and hollers are even louder now. The lights begin to flash brilliant colors, as the music breaks out in full and the men begin to jump, dance, run and swing their instruments all across the stage. This sound begins to fill my ears, the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. My mouth forms the words that are floating through the air, the beautiful verses that only geniuses could think up. Everyone’s dancing, including me. The smell of sweat begins to fill the room, but no one even cares to pull out some freshener or light a few candles. The sweat shows the signs of happiness and fulfillment, something you can only get from the feeling of being at a show like this. The dancing is out of control, and although I can’t see it, I know somewhere in the back is a mosh pit filled with energetic teens and adults ready to punch whoever, wherever in the face. The time passes by so quickly, they’re already on the eighth song. How I wish we could slow down time, just for these specific nights. The song begins to approach the instrumental segment, and the devoted fans know exactly what they’re supposed to do. Slowly but surely we all begin to squat down to the ground, getting lower and lower with each beat of the song. “There’s a sick little suicide in all that we do, you decide which ones for you,” We all repeat the lyrics back to those four men, bouncing up and down on our toes while waiting for our cue. In one instant, we all jump back to our standing position and begin to dance sporadically, kicking and singing along. Not everyone admits it, but this is the part of the night that we’ve been anticipating. It’s as if we all know each other, have been friends for a long time, and decided that we wanted to have a close-knit party. This mine as well be the case, for all these people feel as if they’re family. The last few songs play, and we scream again and again for an encore, which we always get. The pelvic thrusts are perfectly timed, as these relatives know, of course. Once these men leave and the lights go black again, we begin to spread like ants that lost the smell of their trail, meeting up with other friends at separate ends of the room. For that short amount of time, it seemed like nothing else mattered. There were no restraints, and our minds were as close as our awkwardly positioned bodies. It was amazing while it lasted, and I can’t wait ‘till the next time when our bodies and minds will meet again.

feel.

Things are changing,
we're growing apart.
I dont want us to,
but it's starting to seem inevitable.
The constant fighting,
the rolling of your eyes.
It hurts me, and I've told you that.
Yet you just turn the story around;
making everything that's occured my fault.
I already owned up to my mistakes,
I've been more cautious,
I've changed.
I changed for you.
Have you done the same?
I honestly can't tell.
You have become a different person,
not for the better but for the worse.
Someone that i barely know anymore.

It used to be like looking in a clear mirror,
but now theres dirt and mud and hurt smeared everywhere.

Who are you?
Answer me.

Why do you say such crude things about others,
then pretend to be their friend?
Or are you truly their friend,
and you just say horrid things behind their back?
I fear you do the same to me.

late nighters.

In the past 48hrs,

I've slept a slight and uncomfortable three.

oh joyous, joyous day.

how i love insomnia and bed-hoggs.