2004-10-27 - 12:52pm
"Look inside those eyes. Not much going on. It's not hard to disguise an empty space with dark makeup" - the Enemies, "Something To Lose"
It's the post-performance queasiness. Your hair's all straightened and pretty, but that gets you nowhere. You're shaking, about to puke - from dread or relief?
Can you feel it rushing through your veins? Poison, poison. Adrenaline junkie. The walls closed in and you wanted out, so you punched a hole and climbed through. Faked it. Immersed in nonsense to feel good. It's only after you write it and look back that you realize how meaningless it is, and how you spent so much time only to look like a fool. Straightened hair, the perfect outfit, the way you line your eyes so pretty. It's addictive, meant to repulse and fascinate.
We agreed. Looks like trouble and the sweetest inside is the best way to be. Someone ate the chip on my shoulder (Watch "Malibu's Most Wanted" if you don't get it.) and I want it back.
I might have to watch the World Series if I get a chance tonight. Gretchen Wilson is going to be singing ;)
Everything's crimson. Why does it always come at the most inopportune times?
I don't want to die alone. No, that does not mean I'm taking someone out with me. Just, y'know, I don't want to die alone.
"I don't want to be desperately in need, though here I am, bound for hell, I sabotage myself, I could use a hand." - Handsome Devil, "Angels On High"
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