Mad Girl's Love Song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)


Sometimes you read something and it just gives you this crazy, weird feeling inside. It’s the feeling of pure emotion, passion in its rawest form. It’s like someone took your insides and shook them all up, sending them swirling into oblivion. The heart beats faster and the head spins, just enough to set you over the edge.

It’s an odd phenomenon and it usually catches me by surprise. You can’t plan for something like that to happen, it just does. It could just be the way something is phrased or an intense connection with a certain concept. It may sound cliche, or even a bit trite, but the truth is, there's nothing else like it.

Cause of Death

I've begun working on a few new projects that have been taking up most of my free time lately. I'll hold out on talking about them for the moment, but I promise to have some updates soon.


We're always moving faster but that clock never stops ticking... www.deathwontwait.com

New Beginnings

We were always a little too late. Time dies slow, but death won't wait.

http://deathwontwait.wordpress.com

Fallen Prey

I’ve been back in Brooklyn for a little more than two weeks now. I’m finally starting to get used to waking up in the same place every morning, seeing the same people on a regular basis and settling into at least a semi-regular routine. I started working again and am actually starting to like it. Of course, any mindless job will be intellectually stifling and I certainly am feeling its affects. But it really is nice change to have a little money now and then and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t having fun.

There’s something about a routine that is suddenly attractive to me. I had always shunned the idea of regularity, wanting instead to live a life of excitement and surprise, something that still appeals to me in a way. Oddly enough, I now find myself looking for a more habitual sleep schedule and some sort of plan for my daily pursuits. I like the order and stability that a routine provides, however temporarily, and am ok without the steady stream of excitement that comes with being on the road.

Instead I’ve been able to satisfy that lust through different projects, finding fulfillment in my efforts to learn and create new things. I find myself feeling much more content after hours of reading or writing than I do climbing out of a van after an 8-hour drive. Still, I feel oddly attracted to faraway places and can’t deny that pang of jealousy I feel when I hear about the adventures of travelling friends. I’m almost certain that itch will be back, and before long I’ll find myself desperately wanting to escape once again.

Even when I talk of routine, my life is certainly not regular in any strict sense of the word. More often than not I end up staying up all night, working unusual hours, and deciding everything at the spur of the moment. I still can’t really plan anything and hate the idea of working a full-time job. Perhaps I’ve finally found a happy medium or maybe just a temporary solution to capriciousness. I’ve always been frightened of normalcy and the stale monotony that generally accompanies it. The fact that I’m starting to feel attracted to it is all the more terrifying. Its certainly possible that I burnt myself out a little over the summer, being gone for so long; or maybe this is what they call growing up, although I really hope that’s not it. Only time will tell as the next few weeks and months unfold and my insides sort themselves out. Everybody wants to dance with the devil, but no one wants to pay the band.