Wednesday, February 25, 2009

beatin' alive at 145

"That's some weak shit," you tell yourself as you hang up on him. Again, you are talking to yourself.
A stranger sat on my couch wearing a dumb hat and lied through his teeth tonight and I just watched him.
I pretend to like to sleep with almost strangers, but really it scares the shit out of me. It makes me sick, actually. Sex is sensational. Sex is sensationalized. Sex is bullshit, most times. "Why would you have sex with me if you don't even know me?"
I guess if you have to ask that question, you're not gonna get laid much in life.
There are many different types of women. Some women like to think they are strong because they'll never let a man hurt them.
But to be broken, on your knees, because of a man, is better than what they tried to tell me finding God will be like.
And you can say that if you're a woman, and you won't be weak. You will believe that you are weak. But just because he is a man and you are a woman and you are broken, does not mean that you are done.
When it finally fell all the way to the ground and cracked, I was standing up and shouting to yellow leaves, begging to be them. They didn't answer and the rain fell soft, while I was only waiting for a thunderstorm.
And I know I sang with angels, looking down upon him, but when he's searchin, fumbling around in the dark, searching for other lightswitches, all you can do is watch. Can't change nothin', can't move mountains like your heart says you can. Certainly can't move a man.

I let a stranger who asked to fuck me sit on my couch tonight.
I tried to like his looks he gave me, but I couldn't stop thinking about how dumb he was.
Fools and friends both, have told me that I lost it. My wandering, my dreamy intentions of constant exploration. I don't expect this to mean anything to you. And I don't expect to ever be anything to anyone anymore.
But I guess I could say that I'm not done walkin tru the woods.