i guess i'm switching to tumblr? call me a trend whore.

http://owensfashowens.tumblr.com/

sunrise after sunset, unwashed sheets, pack after pack of tobacco, scouring change for food and gas and other means to extend the weekend past reasonable timeframes. never truly sleeping, but drifting in and out of slumber as the noises of others keep my consciousness alive. bedtimes are mornings and mornings are afternoons. houses and apartments decorated not by redundant furnishings but by the souls of the people who fill them up. trips to drive-throughs and gas stations are really mere excuses to sing in the car without hesitation or shame. all my clothes in backpacks and bags, serving as my mobile closet from place to place. by no means conventional or ostentatious, you sneer at its laughable simplicity, but i don't find it an agonizing flaw. the rhythm and repetition of my existence causes you exasperation which i will gladly accept. brand me as predictable, irrelevant. this is what i know and love.

my proud little eagle, head to the sky, shake your feathers dry, never let anyone see you cry.

heat

i move through you, but fast, like my finger through a lit candle. if i stay too long, you'll burn me.

so i soak myself in your dazzling brilliance, for a split second, before i flee to safety, where i can admire you from afar.

your charring nature is what fascinates me.

even the slightest interaction with you sets everyone ablaze.

you cauterize, burn the germs and sins off people who let them cake their bodies so carelessly.

but you leave open wounds and force newborn skin to the surface, regardless of if it's ready.

so i am left to wonder, is your disinfecting ability that will lay bare my underlying virtue worth the raw flesh you'll leave me behind with?

i am only a frog in liquid you, and i'm begging you, please don't boil me.

Your walls come down, you're bare.

Your walls stay up, you're barely there.

Which burden would you rather bear?

Lay still.


Lay still.

Tylenol is just backwards lonely with a T.

I write I write I write.

I'm right I'm right I'm right.

You can always convince yourself if you try hard enough.

It was always a costume party, and you were the only one with your mask off.

You are a sculpture, with mirrors for eyes.

The curve of your back was carved out just right.

Not made of stone and marble and jewels,

But bones and flesh and light.

You are a panther, with a slink in your walk.

Your canines glisten when you excitedly talk.

Placed in a foreign environment,

You're struggling to survive.

You are a mountain, that I hesitate to climb.

The view from the summit is worth all the time.

But I'd rather stand at the bottom, in safety,

And admire your stark allure from afar.

And I am a painter, but only in my head.

I make masterpieces out of things that you've said.

And you might never get to see it,

But you've been my best work yet.

I will fall in love with your hands.

I hate cologne.
It covers up the smell of skin.
Each person's skin smells different, and beautiful.

The boy I marry will have skin that smells like cinnamon and cigarettes.

These lungs, they can't sustain
On the stale air with which they're strained
The crack under the door won't let in
The amount I need of oxygen
Can you turn on the fan?
I just want something to cut this suffocating state of static tension.
Even the strongest throat would close up
In such a situation.

Tonight I'll either lay on the floor
And watch the blades spin life back into us
Or slowly shut down in response to a lack of motivation.

Can you turn the fan on?

The only time you're beautiful is when you're asleep.

I love you when your consciousness slips away,
And you can't hurt me with your vindictive tongue.
I watch your eyelids flutter as you race through dreams.
But then you wake up, and I can't look at your face.
You're beautiful with your eyes closed.
But when you look at me, they're full of hate.
We can't sleep forever. I have to leave.

Fluorescent lightbulbs will make an absence of dark,
but the light just ain't there still and she said
"I'm feeling empty. The real lights can make you heavy,
but never ever really empty. Fluorescent lights will always equal empty."

I have an ache, and it won't go away.