Illusory

I have nightmares to make you giggle
and dreams you could never understand
like drinking up the sun
or holding fire in my hands

of being torn or sliced
into a thousand tiny pieces
or being teased and raped
by all your crazy demons

of drowning in the noise
just to be petrified by the silence
or sinking to the bottom
in an ocean filled with violence

of dancing naked on the moon
with rock n roll ghosts from outer space
or looking in the mirror
and for once, not seeing the devil's face

of writing lyrics to a song
with nothing but the color blue
or solving all the mysteries of life
like knowing every part of you

of painting all your walls
with every drop of my red blood
or shoving my heart down your throat
and choking you with my love

I have nightmares that make your shiver
and dreams you just might understand
like squeezing life out of the blazing sun
or holding your heart inside my hands

Last Will

My heart will always beat too fast
because it's scared of the slow down

I will hold my breath
because I'm thrown by the exhale

I will keep the white noise
because it drowns out the sound of my own voice

I will pay attention to detail
to shift my focus elsewhere

Your pain and your story
will always be more interesting than mine

I will collect pretty words
because I don't feel pretty at all

I will let you in
because I want you to test my limits

And you will validate me
because I'll let you push my buttons

I will toss you bits and pieces
because I am broken

I won't finish anything
because I don't know where to start

I will get in my own way
all the time, every time

I can't leave you alone
because then you'll be lonely

I will throw myself at you
because I've been thrown away

You will have all my love
because I don't need any for myself




(Trying to get over a severe case of writer's block here...I don't know what I'm so afraid of. It shouldn't be this hard to listen to yourself. Here's hoping this unlocks some doors.)

Drowning Out

We were riding together
to somewhere
I don't remember where
to some place
to a place you wanted to go
I'm sure
I was driving
I was always driving
Because you were always drinking
or
always going to be drinking
So
I was driving
You were riding
And we were headed somewhere

And I asked you
if I could listen to some music
You said you didn't care
I told you this was my favorite song

I didn't need your approval
I didn't expect you to sing along
All you had to do
was
acknowledge it
acknowledge me
sit quietly
and
listen

But
instead
you reached over
pushed the button
and turned it off

Turned me off

And you said
something
about
how you just couldn't stand
listening
to that shit
anymore

And
yet
you kept talking
and talking
and talking
and wondering
why I was being so quiet

I'm listening

Until
I reach over
and push the button
turn the music back on

I can't stand listening to your shit anymore

Why
couldn't you
just
let
me
sing?

And

We are still riding
somewhere

I'm still driving
I'm still singing
You're still talking
You're still drinking
We're still riding
And we're headed
straight
for nowhere

The Day I Gave My Soul To A New Religion...

Lately, I've...wait, let me start again. Last year, I...what the hell am I trying to say here? So, it all started when I bought these tickets to this festival on a beach in Pensacola to see this one particular band that I (we) thought we would apparently never get to see live again in our lifetime. I mean, why else would we drive 6 + hours on a work day, on a school day to spend the night only to get up to sit all damn day on a hot sandy ass beach in the middle of October? You might have heard of the band, 30 Seconds To Mars? Uh huh, I thought so. And if not, you should check em out. And if you have, and you don't like them, well, whatever. So, that's how this all started. Now that you are filled in on the backstory, lemme get to the point here. This festival had a 3 day lineup filled with all sorts of bands, 90% of which I'd never heard of. I'd be hard pressed to name some of them for you now, but I'll give it a shot...hmmm...nope...wait, Michael Franti and Spearhead? Does that sound right? Maybe. Also on the bill, Bush (I know, right? What the fuckin hell?), 311, and Stone Temple Pilots. Okay. Whatever. That's nice. That's swell. Like I mentioned earlier, we didn't care about anyone but 30STM. Except...one night, while trying to get all hyped up for this festival, I decided to check out other bands. I mean, what could it hurt? I might actually like one or two of them actually. Enter---BLACK REBEL MOTORCYCLE CLUB. My life has been forever changed. And to understand how my life has been forever changed, you just need to know that I refuse to remember how my life was before I was turned on to the music of Robert Been and Peter Hayes. How did I managed to miss this band that has been around since the beginning of the damn decade? Anyhow, all of that doesn't matter for shit now because this band's music has become such a huge part of my life that I don't know if I could breathe without it. And if I could (and yes I know I could, really) I don't think I would want to. Ever.

Did I tell you that we went on to see BRMC live that Saturday? An hour long set of a band that was too fucking cool for the daylight, let alone a beach, let alone flying beachballs. I rocked my face off. Stood up on the metal barricades trying just to be a few inches taller so I could see over the VIPs. Trying not to be that chick that would scream "woooooohooooo eeeeeeeeeeeehh yeahhhh wooooo" after every song, but I was hopelessly hopeless and was so much that chick that I had to bite my knuckles just to keep my mouth shut. I remember, there was this lady behind and to the side of us that watched (with her eyes closed) the whole BRMC set with a drink in one hand and her other arm skyward just kind of swinging, swaying there, if you will. Back then, on that day, I thought she was too drunk for 3 in the afternoon, for a hot sandy ass beach, for a crowd that was only gonna get bigger. But now, I completely understand.

BRMC is a way of life. BRMC is an addiction, an affliction. BRMC is a family, and a moving experience. The only people who understand the way BRMC can move you are the people who are moved by BRMC.

Who knows when I'll get to see them again....might be next month or next year, but I know, that when I do, I'll close my eyes, raise my hands to sky, and sway. That is, when I'm not being that crazy knuckle-biter screamer dreamer that I am.



p.s. We hung in to see 30STM on that night, but the beach defeated us. The crowd won. The VIPs won. We barely made it out with just our flipflops and our lives, but that's okay. If we'd just been a little more patient or a little more psychic, we would have known that come January we would get to see that band again in Atlanta at the comfy confines of The Tabernacle. But....if we would have known that we probably would have skipped out on DeSucka Fest and missed ever discovering BRMC, and I'm not even gonna think about that, because I can't. I don't remember anything before BRMC, and that's just the way it should be.

Acting out

"Be real for once in your life."

"Okay, but only if I can fake it!"