"dylan went electric.
so did we.
but in my head kind of only.
nobody cared.
its hard being careless, even harder to be carefree.
i fight walls in hotel rooms more than i have ever slept next to someone in them.
tricking yourself into thinking you matter enough for someone to remember to forget you is the best kind of magic of all.
it is fast and hard.
ive seen yr world. ive breathed in it and written of it.
i dont care for it though.
i dont read your reviews or your clippings anymore.
i try not to obsess over obsession.
im lonely but like a cigarette. im always being smoked.
put to mouths and then put out.
my mouth moves faster than my head ever could and lets not even speak of the words at my finger tips.
they are never thought through.
they just come and come.
like light under the door.
sometimes poets speak with their fists.
trying to write my way out of everything.
it was simple to write "wouldnt piss to put you out" and "kiss her, kiss her".
its a bit harder to mean anything to myself.
its a shame that the days that are glorified are the ones i just wish would fade.
sleep on a curb. wake up with a smile.
dream of sometime better."