09:28 pm: sry
ok. so...its been a while. like, 3 months. yeah. lots happened. umm... nothing incredibly awsome. so lifes little details. still single. yeah. that anout sums it up. lol that ( btw) is the "what ever" face. that is me at the moment. i find my-self to be... feeling -less. if that makes sense. its sad kinda. then again, i suppose it could be worse, couldnt it? i could be depressed. at least im not that. in case u cant tell, im over tired. (note the lack of feeling) i like boys. just a side note to any of u reading this. i realy REALY like boys. ok. umm...the end. song of the moment time. the first is amusing and the second it the BEST sex song ever!
Erection: the faint
It's a scene from the movie.
It's an isle at the store.
It's the view of a canyon.
The sound of a sword.
It's an orchard peaches.
Your wife in the shower.
While you wait for appointments.
Or as you walk through the park.
Oh. uh oh. Erection.
You know it's not only love dear.
That can flip the switch up.
You know it probably should be.
Maybe god fucked it up.
Oh uh oh. Erection.
It boiled up like a tower.
A monument in the park.
It's the cock of a rifle.
A memory in the dark.
You tried to keep it a secret.
But now the world's gonna know.
You tried for perfection.
But then oh uh oh. erection.
oh uh oh. erection.
"Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades"
brand new:
Keep the noise low.
She doesn't wanna blow it.
Shaking head to toe
while your left hand does "the show me around."
Quickens your heartbeat.
It beats me straight into the ground.
You don't recover from a night like this.
A victim, still lying in bed, completely motionless.
A hand moves in the dark to a zipper.
Hear a boy bracing tight against sheets
barely whisper, "This is so messed up."
Upon arrival the guests had all stared.
Dripping wet and clearly depressed,
he'd headed straight for the stairs.
No longer cool, but a boy in a stitch,
unprepared for a life full of lies and failing relationships.
(Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.)
He keeps his hands low.
He doesn't wanna blow it.
He's wet from head to toe and
his eyes give her the up and the down.
His stomach turns and he thinks of throwing up.
But the body on the bed beckons forward
and he starts growing up.
The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe
you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed
but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.
She hits the lights.
This doesn't seem quite fair.
Despite everything he learned from his friends,
he doesn't feel so prepared.
She's breathing quiet and smooth.
He's gasping for air.
"This is the first and last time," he says.
She fakes a smile and presses her hips into his.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He's holding back from telling her
exactly what it really feels like.
He is the lamb, she is the slaughter.
She's moving way too fast and all he wanted was to hold her.
Nothing that he tells her is really having an effect.
He whispers that he loves her,
but she's probably only looking for...
(Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.)
So much more than he could ever give.
A life free of lies and a meaningful relationship.
He keeps his hands pinned down at his sides.
He waits for it to end
and for the aching in his guts to subside.
The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe
you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed
but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.
Up the stairs: the station where
the act becomes the art of growing up.
The fever, the focus.
The reasons that I had to believe
you weren't too hard to sell.
Die young and save yourself.
The tickle, the taste of...
It used to be the reason I breathed
but now it's choking me up.
Die young and save yourself.