Kev-ism.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

A Stain of Forever

The one thing that will be constant.

Posted at 11:31 am by name
mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Friday, October 30, 2009

Bright Lights On A Starless Night, Burn A Hole In The Dying Day

Perhaps it's an awkward twist of faith that has me feeling as if life has indeed been... great.

I just quite can't shake this feeling that maybe I've only grown so detached to everything and everyone, that nothing really phases me anymore.

Either way, I'm happy.
I think?

Posted at 09:27 am by name
mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Friday, July 17, 2009

This Coin Keeps Landing On It's Side

And with it, another chapter comes to a close.

Posted at 08:16 am by name
(1) mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Taint

"Self-preservation." this statement, explaining everything; from this female version of myself.

And as the burden of circumstance weighs upon me, it is, quite simply, the best explanation for why I act the way I do, and will. I can't quite seem to put someone else before myself, at least not in this aspect. For I find that I might stand before a blade for a friend, or stare down the barrel of a gun for a loved one, but ask me to put my faith in the unknown, to invest that part of myself in something that I have the slightest reservations for, and I'll surely break, slowly, eventually.

I would rather die for something I'm sure of, than live for something wreathed in the uncertainty that this world is.

As I drift, this fissure will expand, and these optimists, they will all forsake me. They will shake their heads disapprovingly, and their words will be scornful and malicious. All because I took a stance, and made a choice for myself. There are no wrong decisions, I'll tell them, only decisions, for there will always be "what if?" and "what will be?", regardless of the path one chooses. And, asshole, they'll retort.

But I'll return to one of my many homes, and the longest silence will be my confiding in the person there.
For she always understood why, even before I did.

Posted at 08:14 am by name
mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Drop/Line/Hit

With each step, another wave of happiness.
Yet I wake up tonight into an utter sense of soullessness.

Posted at 05:22 am by name
mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Throw It Away/Forget Yesterday

This song is a reminder of better times.
Of the people, and the moments we shared, that made me feel infinite.

It bothers me that I cling on so tightly to the past,
forever living in my memories.

Posted at 02:26 pm by name
mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Our Light is Ultraviolet

One day,
years from now,
you'll look back,
and you'll think of me.

And you'll remember me
as one of the best things that ever happened to you.

Or one of the worst.

Posted at 05:53 pm by name
(1) mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Writing Your Own Tragedy, Redux

No one else will fully appreciate the poetry of how I'm listening to this song again.

For a few years back I was obsessed with the original of this one song, pondering upon love, and the capacity of one to love.

Now I'm listening to the cover of it, on repeat. As opposed to the original, which had synthesized sounds throughout the song, the cover is played entirely by acoustic guitar, leaving that sense of rawness and imperfection.

It's years later and it's still the same song, with the same lyrics that I somehow draw different meaning from. This time, the taint of darkness smeared across my previous interpretation, leaving a transformed perspective on the notions of love, and the capacity of one to love. Obscuring the shimmer in these once hopeful concepts, that never truly existed for me. The smear, filtering the gleam, basking my world in the most radiant display of twilight.

Back then I wanted love. Now, I want everyone to suffer.
I keep asking myself how I let myself end up like this.

I'm listening to this song again, thinking of ways to tear everything down.

I miss the days where I had convictions, and I knew what I felt.
Ignorant as I was.

Posted at 07:02 am by name
(2) mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

I always wish for the same thing every year.

In a really fucking warped sense, my wish does come true.
But usually on Saturdays, at 25 a pop.

Posted at 05:07 am by name
(1) mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Miss.

I never lose my way, because I never know where I'm going.

I find myself, venturing to that eerie playground, where the unoccupied swings sway slowly back and forth, creaking, as if whispering warnings for me not to be here. It's places like this that the laughter of children would not particularly be out of place, but would be unnerving to no end. Yet somehow, I trust this place, as lonely and empty as it is. And I could die here; no one would know.

I find myself, thinking of where I stopped believing in anything outside of here, this intangible playground. It's the closest I'll ever get to peaceful. And to think, I found this place through a simple mistake, yet I've always managed to find my way back here. I'll hold on to that ice cold hand that first led me here, and it will lead me here again and again. All it asks for as payment, is my trust.

I died here, and no one knew.

Posted at 04:33 am by name
mid-sweet talk. newspaper word cut out.