I can't listen to rock and roll. You have defiled it. Screw you.

I AM HUMAN, AND I NEED TO BE LOVED.

Soap Opera Blues
Resignation.
Back to being the girl in the background?
Yes, in the background.
It's been that way forever, don't you remember?
She's always in the audience giving a standing ovation to the actors.
Why don't you realize that she wants to play too?
She can act too.
The little dog under the table?
Yes, under the table.
Snapping at their heels for a little bit of meat.
Just a crumb, master.
The one who lets them get away
Because she likes it that way.
Masochist.

this is possibly the song that...did...whatever...it did...to me.

jets to brazil - "sweet avenue"

tasting you and rain I walk down to the train
try not to look down
this day could someday be an anniversary
everything is light and sound
facing forwards going slowly wait for you to show me
where this train wants to go
living by the hour i stopped for every flower
everything is soft and slow
now all these tastes improve
through the view that comes with you
like they handed me my life
for the first time it felt right
thank you for making me see there's a life in me
it was dying to get out
holding you we make two spoons beneath an april moon
everything is soft and sweet
this cigarette it could seduce a nation with its smoke
crawling down my tired throat
scratches part of me that's purring
softly stirring
i'm captain of industry smoking famously
feet up on the windowsill
looking at all these trees i feel affinity with
everything so soft and still - budding at my fingertips
touching you i start to bloom
alive with trains and passing ships
soft and sweet along your lips now
i go "oh wow"
thank you for taking me from my monestary
i was dying to get out
with tears of gratitude
i like my latitude
a cross town train to you
now all these tastes improve
through the view that comes with you
like they handed me my life
for the first time it felt worth it
like i deserved it

One cheer for stream of conciousness. I I like it when you write down your thoughts as fast as your little fingers will hit the keys without care for coherency or story line, you kind of disassociate your hands from your brain until your trance is interrupted. Someone told me that's called a Joycian freewrite. Meh, whatever.

invasion of the body snatchers

under my bed there was a thing under the way you see i can't stop the soliloquy of my life from falling apart and we only wanted you to feel like the permanent eyeball on these strands of golden nudity when you feel something that hurts that bad you can’t wish that it all would not be under my skin and when the clock shadows over the blinking blinking moon sometimes all you can do is sit and go and let the keys click like someone hasn't cleaned it out in forever and then the can will sometimes start to talk and you think how can this princess be part of the spring when everything else is black and there's a nice woman who wants lipstick on the desk overly emotional wretch wanting to hurt the penguin of the link that hinges the door and lets the air breathe in hideously disfiguring the way that almost everybody can get along but the color and the data is over that and when the lips fall off and the mind is released from responsibility and one woman can ruin his life and doesn't that mean that when the shoes are clean it's a sad thing even if the window eats itself and

At that point my trance was interrupted. I could have gone on, but that would marr the purity of my train of thought.

I was walking down the stairs and I was singing "Where is my father? Where is my mother? Where is my sister?" for no particular reason.
And then I sang, "Where is my brother??" and I stopped.
I looked around.
I wondered, "Where is my brother?"
Then I realized.
I don't have a brother.
Then I changed my song to "Why don't I have a brother?"

I am obviously loony.

a lyric or two

"Why do you come here? When you know it makes things hard for me, when you know, oh why do you come?"

I am Human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does
There's a club, if you'd like to go
You could meet somebody who really loves you
So you go, and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home, and you cry
And you want to die

Sorry I'm posting song lyrics...I hate it when other people do that. But I'm special, you see?
At this point in time, I feel that it's the most cryptic, appropritate way to express myself.