while jogging

Lightening spills out across the night sky and a roar of thunder soon follows.
Trees begin to bend in the wind, as the vanguard of the Strom approaches.
I'm in the middle of a late night run and have now begun to sprint just to get home before the down pour.
The sky again erupts in a splendid blue as a lightening bolt cuts through it, branching out in five directions, then turns dark again just as quickly.
The first rain drops fall to the ground.
I think to myself that its funny how you run the hardest when you want to keep dry. Its that flight instinct that you get right when you feel the tears coming, even when they're from the sky.
Nobody really wants waterfalls streaking down there face.
Must be why I'm in such good shape.
The thunder roars.
I think about that,
We're really not afraid of all the glitz and glamour that come with storms, we're afraid of the down pour that follows.

impatience

send me to a mess.
pick me up again.
how can you sweep the pieces under the bed?
becuase i sure can't.
couldn't find my rythme.
where'd you get yours?
felt like burning the bridges every weekend
with this sick and sunken sludge of a soul caught in a body like mine.
you know, when your there its not such a bad thing.
especially after all those filthy nights we spent.
now i want to tell you that i want you.
thats it.
no more.
take me home.
i want you.
never really understood how much you meant to me until you left me and now i have no idea what to do and only want to be with you, want to see you soon but realize soon is a while away.
send me to a mess again.
damn.
these days, thinking of you, i've become impatient.

the right words to say

Sorry about the other day.
And the one before that.
And the one before that.
And the one before that one too.
And the ones before that.
And etc.
Really.
Now that you've disconnected from me and I've had my silent thinking in sanctuary its more apparent to me.
I hear your voice, between the sounds of the streets of the city.
I miss your voice.
Wish there weren't any boundaries or borders between us,
"Only these words
Just between your eyes and the green glass
as Karl Hyde would say.
"in the distantance
I'm your tourist."
said so perfectly.
Had a dream:
"You pick up the phone,
and I'm imagining."
It makes sense to me.

Out Of Town Blues

Outside the rain has stopped and I lay awake in my bed thinking of you.
Its late and I can't sleep and I'm on my back gazing into a deep black nothing void and there are a thousand images running through my mind as I think and wonder where you are right now. Makes me feel good, the images I mean. The wondering doesn't. Gives me a sense of panic. Outside the weather seems to mock my thoughts. Behind me the window is cracked an inch open and a breeze rushes in and its cold and makes me shiver. I pull the blanket close, wishing there was more. Outside the wind begins to blow harder and I think to myself that another storm is coming. I'm tired of them. Water drips from the roof, to puddles below. Leaves sway with gusts and the branches creak and my arm moves to the side and it touches only cold and empty ripples from the sheets.
Its weird that I miss you. I never have before, before these days. Then realized that I do miss you. Bad.
All I want to do is fall asleep with your face as the last thing I see.
I can't sleep though. Fucking irony.
Too cold.
And I lay there.
Wondering with my out-of-town blues.
....
Sometime around dawn my eyes close and I'm asleep. Dreaming.

Not My Style

I'm sitting in a chair, people all around, saying nothing, doing nothing and I realize for the hundredth time tonight that this place just doesn't fit my style.
If anything its the opposite: a tough crowd, seemingly out to get me.
I'm feeling a little defensive.
Feel like there should be a "WANTED" poster in this place, with my face on it.
To my left he explains to me that I don't exactly have the best reputation around here, "not in these parts" and all because I had threatened to break a pool stick over the "next mother fucker's face who touches me," one long ago night, as he explains.
"That didn't really go over well here." He says. "You remember that?"
I remember the moment well enough, I explain. "The fucker wanted to fight and he was asking for it."
"And you were drunk."
But not tonight.
So instead I'm sitting. Quiet again. Thinking that this place is not my style and I have better places to be.
"Great you guys came," he says.
Not really, for me any ways.
"You haven't said much tonight," he says to me. "Not the way you are usually."
"Don't have much to say," I say.
I'm thinking "mayday, mayday" in my head right now- plane is losing control, can't keep the storm at bay.
Some guy is starring at me cold from across the room, pure murder in his eyes. Death. Nothing less. I could see it in his face. He doesn't want me here.
To make matters worse he has company.
I'm surrounded by people but its the Devil that sits across from me, her legs crossed, drinking and laughing.
"Didn't know she'd be here," my friend says.
I think to myself that I remember telling him, my friend, that I never want to see her again.
Now this shit.
I'm in the room and wish I wasn't, lounging, watching, starring aimless at the scene and as it unfolds around me, feeling akward.
The Devil starts making conversation my way, the kind of conversation the Devil would make. The kind that cuts you down.
I'm thinking that I want to get out of here, desperately.
The guy across the room has a fixed gaze, starring at me. He walks up. He says a sly remark, walks away.
"Public enemy number one," I say to myself. But my friend doesn't hear me. I'm invisible to the people I wish I could talk to. Its the contrary with the others.
"Not my style."
This place stinks with revenge and deceit and all the bad things that make me sweat from my head to my feet and I'm thinking that I need to get out of here and on to elsewhere.
Call a taxi, tell the driver: "somewhere, fast."
But I can't.
Tied down. I'm the taxi, the driver tonight. And my friend just left with a girl. I told him earlier: "I won't leave without you."
That's not such a bad idea anymore.
But thats not my style. Not even tonight.
Around midnight I hit the PANIC button. Other people call it the bottle.
And I drink the situation away.
Thats all I have to say about a bad day.

Breath

I brought you something close to me,
Left for something else
you see though your not here.
You haunt my dreams
There's nothing to do but believe, just Believe. Just Breathe.
I'm used to it by now.
Lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Just breathe. I'm used to it by now.
Another day (I do believe).
Another day(so hard to breathe).
Another day(not so hard to believe) Another day.
Wondering about this feeling.

~Telepopmusik

Home

Every time I leave this place I don't want to come back.
Maybe its the weather.
Maybe its the atmosphere.

Finals

I leave wondering what I've accomplished today.
"Today's an understatement," I say. "When have I had the chance to really go to sleep?" to end my day.
Its been a while.
I can't help but wonder if the struggle was worth this victory.
"What victory?" I think. I walk out into the 3 in the morning dark, wondering what I've won.
Was the juice worth the squeeze? The ticket worth the price?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
A lot has changed.
there's been a lot of beginnings. A lot of ends.
A lot of final things. Said. Done. Never wanted. Probably needed.
Despite the fact that I haven't slept in months I still want more.
Last year I slept for days, after things were finalized.
This year I don't know what I'll do.
Not really tired.
"What time is it?" I ask the guy that walks by me.

somewhere

I found my way through the dark and then I'm through the door and into the bright lights laughing.
"You do drugs?" He asks.
"Not today."
"Come on." She says.
Giving me an eye from across the room is another girl and I opt for her company instead of the two monkeys flanking me.
I walk away as they ask for a light for their joint, following the tractor beam gaze in front of me, stepping up as she asks, "You have a light?" for a cigerette as she pulls one from her shoulder strap and I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of matches I stole from the bar I had just come from. She grins, then her boyfriend walks over and pushes me out of the way and I'm agitated before my shoulder slams into a guy's gut and I look up and me the giants gaze.
He has has spiky hair.
I just made him spill his drink.
He has no expression on his face and walks away. I feel like a giant killer. But before I can move again, somebody else is on me and talking fast.
She speaks in broken speech that I can't understand. Then falls into me, holding me for support. Her eyelashes tickle my skin. I'm wondering. She's clining to me. My phone is ringing in my pocket. I push her away so I can answer and she spirals across the room, unable to catch her balance.
I answer the phone just as she hangs up on the other end, missing her voice.
Then I turn around, to find a friend and run into another.
"I've tried. Can't think of what else to do. Just can't get the results. You know?"
"I Guess," I say.
I walk away, not really understanding.
Somewhere in the back room a man is singing.
I head that way and find him singing alone, to some Usher song. So I walk away again and head down a hall. There are doors all round me. Each one closed. I'm wandering around the house and remember that everyone hates a tourist. Then I find an open door, cool air rushing from it and all and decided its my best option.
Sometime around midnight I leave the scene and find myself drifting around somewhere.
Somewhere is better than nowhere, I think.