(hewhoiwillbe)

I sit alone with a keyboard on my lap.
Eleven thirty and I can't sleep.
The car is running but there is no where that I feel like going.
Eyes closed I lean back and imagine what it must be like with nothing.
How hard I didn't have to grow up.
This is a brave new world one lacking of principles.
Its cold and silent out, the snow mutes everything.
I wear a sweater and a scarf but I have taken my hat off.
A simple black touque.
The snow is falling and the light is different here.
It bounces and chatters, reflected off the perfect wet surface of a sparsely occupied parking lot. Its comforting in its silence.
It seems to deaden the noise of the world.
I feel like shit but I spark a cigerette anyways.
I want to change something in my life.
Build better habits.
Its not that its hard, its just that I am vain.
I that simple honest way.
I have been feeling more and more myself over the last couple of days.
Finally letting myself sway to the rythmn and stagger.
It's been here all along.
I just couldn't rise to my feet with all this weight bearing down on me.
It took me eight years to find my way through all the bullshit I imagined.
So i'm out in the cold slowly killing myself.
Learning how to just say fuck it.
I have half lived my dreams all my life.
Stood on the crux and carried this transparent cross.
Stumbled around drunk putting words together.
Not an ounce of training and it shows.
In a true paradox thats what makes it great.
Buried my potential and lied to myself.
I said I knew how it felt to be open and venrable.
Let my talent figure itself out.
Its been far too long,
Since i believed in myself.
I know what is good and I'm teaching myself to let it out.
I am no longer scared.
No more afraid then the next guy.
Failure is part of life.
Rather it is how we react to it that really counts.
I am just an animal.
A living breathing machine.
With eyes, heart, stamina and courage.
Always learning and I will always be judged.
Weather I like it or I don't.
I refuse to agonize anymore.
To tell people its alright when I know it's not.
Like it or hate it.
I will project my own luck and pay my own way.
I will succeed where others have failed before me.
The snow is falling slowly.
The flakes are large and they melt on my windshield.
It seems so perfect its sexy.
In the most natural way.

(thosehornsandchellos)

I can hear the music as it plays him in.
Hes dressed in fine robes and his beard glistens.
Its hot and oily but the dust doesn't seem to stick to it.
It just drifts aimlessly around around in the common breeze.
He walks with a certain source of grace. He floats along and seems not to touch the ground. Commanding.
A prescence.
He sits down slowly and starts to speak.
A low kind of voice that seems to sooth and persuade.

I can hear the music as it plays him in.

A soft reggae groove.
A pulsing healthy rythmn and a sweet melody.
"Your novel", he began to say.
"I'm not sure if I want you to use my name."
"This one wasn't really written by me. I'm not sure your accurately representing me. "
He paused and said. "People are taking this so literaly."
"Really? Don't they have anything at all to add?"
"Someone? Somewhere? with something that they need to say."
He would be confused thinking.
"I thought that dad gave 'em free will. Does this have something to do with me as well?"
I can hear the music as it plays him in.