Monday, December 22, 2008

Christmas time

December is always a long month for me. Back in Highschool I lost the first girl I loved in December for the first time. And later, when we got back together when I was in college -- in between which I dated no one -- she left me again in December. I still gave her a Christmas present that that I poured a piece of myself into.

Years later and it's another December. I know the year is based on the same 12 months it was back then, but it always sneaks up on me. If there is some cosmic wheel I'm running for a god's amusement, I'd just like to say it's getting more than a little tiring.

I'm tired of losing the ones I love in December. I'm tired of exchanging words that have some sort of finality to them -- the type of words where I know I'm losing something and I have no control over it.

I'm pouring myself into another Christmas this year, hoping to make a small mark upon your heart before it pulls away for good. And years later, when we're older, someone will look at that heart of yours and see our initials carved into it, along with the year that marked the start of when I was in love with you, and they'll know that someone made an impression upon your life.

I'd give most anything for that to be me, staring back at an aged scar that I put there myself.

I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

I was wrong

About a lot of things. I thought we were in the same place, but I was asking too much to have you meet in the middle. I'm starting to wonder what else I've interpreted wrong.

I'd give anything to feel those heart strings wrapped around me.

Someday. Perhaps. Probably not.

It's going to be a cold, cold December -- and an even longer year.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Song lyrics as requested

You were a gamble a chance I did take,
Within weeks I was your mistake,
you would up in arms that felt familiar,
but I always knew he didn't love you.

And as the days passed I pushed you away,
I'm sorry it was the only way I stayed sane,
Tried to deny all the times you were in my head,
I guess I always knew that i loved you.

In desperation you'd hop aboard a train,
and riding to me you know it's not the same,
and holding my hand you looked at me and said
I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Don't let this be how it ends,
I don't think I can pretend again,
That I don't know what it's like to hold you.

I love you.
And all you do.
Flaws and all.
I'll take them all.

You were a gamble a chance I did take,
Please don't let me be your mistake,
Just reach out and grab my hand again,
Say it to me,
I love you.

I want you back like you used to be

But I can't make you do shit.

I can, however, write a song about it:

Thursday, December 11, 2008

/love %t

Some people think that brooding and sitting on their worries and thoughts works out fine for them. I, on the other hand, have learned through years of therapy that getting things out works best for me. I always talk shit out. You and I got a problem? We're damn well going to talk it out and put it behind us. It not only makes a stronger relationship (friend or otherwise), but it puts things to rest in a better way than silence ever could. Been thinking a lot on this lately...

Today I wrote this letter, and never sent it to anyone.

Dear ,

You deserve a lot more than what you're getting. Hell, you deserve a lot more than what you've known.

It breaks my heart, but I'm starting to feel you slipping away. And (I know you hate sentences started with and), while I know people often say they "feel" something, this is a very tangible physical presence. Like fingers that are wrapped around my insides, I feel them tightening in an attempt to hold on, the fingernails scratching at my stomach, making it so I can't eat some days.

It's not all your fault. As much as you'll convince yourself otherwise, a lot of what you've been doing is simply the result of years and years of false hopes and promises. Learned behavior, I guess you could say. You've learned to guard yourself, and you've learned in all the wrong ways what people call love. What I'm offering you isn't like what you've known, and while there are parts of you that tell you that, there are parts of you that get reminded of the horrible things you have known, and you tell yourself that you and I will end up as a failure -- that we'll be just like everything else: a tragedy.

I can't save you. And it also took me a long time to realize I don't want to save you. All I've ever truly wanted is to love you for you, flaws and all. I'm asking you to come along with me -- as a partner -- to stand up to whatever comes our way.

I don't believe that that is beyond your ability. I know, know, that you have it within yourself to choose love -- to not just turn an eye and do your best to ignore the sadness you feel as things inside you that I've brought to life start to wither.

It's your call. It's always been. I won't be like the others, forcing you into things you didn't truly choose out of love.

con todo mi amor,


Wednesday, December 10, 2008

They scratch my ears

Your words...they scratch my ears, leaving lines that repeat like a record in my mind.
I can't forget you. And though I am getting better at playing something over the sounds of you that are ringing in my head, I'm constantly picking you up in the background.

"I love you."
"This time you will."
"Everyone has a turning point..."

The sounds repeat and drum away at my conscious mind, reminding me of my hopes and dreams that you are so intricately a part of.

"I love you." "I love you very much." "I love you, too"

And while words mean so much, they pale in comparison to the comfort I find in your touch.

A finger across my face. A hand against my leg. Your lips against my own.

I wish I had the words to say to convince you that we can make it work. We can make it alright.

But I don't.

And so I repeat the words I hope won't fall on ears to scarred to hear from someone who really means it:

I. love. you.

Hopefully they scratch the surface, becoming the comforting tracks that you hear when you need it the most.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

I miss it.

I miss it.
The days when you were so desperate to see me you'd hop on the next train out without even calling me to see if I was available.
The times when you'd tell me that you were looking forward to doctors prodding you, because at least it meant you got to spend the night with me.

I miss it.
The tightness of your hand when it held onto mine; knowing that you were trying to hold onto that moment as much as I was.
The feeling of your warmth next to me, and the knowledge that this time I was for you.

Friday, December 5, 2008

Sweet Dreams

Despite all the shit I talked, it turns out you can run faster than me.
No matter how hard I breathe, pushing till my lungs are bursting,
I just can't keep up with the speed at which you pull away.
Since our last race I've trained and trained, even tried to race another after you hit your stride for a while.
But I'm starting to think it wasn't enough.
And in my head it worked out so differently -- I was pushing past you, catching a glimpse of your face as I pass, and we both smile knowing this is how it was always meant to be.
But in reality all I can see is the back of your head, the bottoms of your shoes, choking on the dust of your wake.
I submit defeat, just slow down for me darlin'.

More music is coming...

Been listening to lots of Damien Rice, Glen Hansard, and Marketa Irglova lately. If you don't know who they are, I highly suggested you make a completely uninformed purchase off of Amazon's MP3 store right now and get to listening -- I can't imagine you would regret it.

Been working on a lot of my own songs lately, too. It's slow coming (as it always is), but I should have some stuff to put up on my own myspace soon. The one song I've recently recorded can be found on youtube, and unfortunately that's the only was I can offer it, as I do not have an MP3 of my own.

I'm thinking about experimenting with the instrumentation I consider using, but I am pretty inept at playing anything besides guitar and saxophone. If anyone is feeling in the mood to get some folk music on, and you have the ability to work on it via the internets and old school mail, drop me an email at I'd love to start working on a super, super casual project with interested parties.

Poem while on BART

Love is a wandering fire, and i'm a gust of wind,blowing across the pastures of our loneliness.

And your heart, it can take it,

Though others have only shown you how to break it.

Love is a strike of lighting, and I'm an iron rod,

keeping us staked to eachother.

And your life, we can make it,

Though others have only shown you how to take it.

Love is a land slide, And I'm a faulty foundation,

tumbling and sliding over us both before we can catch our breath.

And your happiness, we'll create it.Though others have only shown you how to degrade it.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Here we are

This is where I'll be blogging about my non-game related interests and thoughts. I like to use my blog on, but lately I've had lots of material swirling around in my head that just doesn't seem...appropriate for putting up there.

So, here we are...