Have you ever gotten wadded up and tossed out? have you ever? I tell ya it hurts the first time but you get used to being folded and unfolded. You get used to being rolled into a ball and shot towards the wastebasket. You grow to love the trash bin and the ditches. You grow to love the silence and security of being alone and having nothing expected of you. Its great at the bottom where no one gives a shit. Singing simple songs about booze and broken hearts. Sipping out of every bottle that passes round and slipping into sleep that rarely allows dreaming. Its better this way with the lights off. Its better in the dark. Here you can’t see the regret thats written all over my face and the sourness that I never let go of.

But maybe I am because I keep trying the same thing and expecting different results.

Toes cold and spreading to the feet that make me walk away from this and you. No socks whether im wearing shoes or not. Always wondering if the smell is my feet or shame. Swallowing pride and saying sorry tastes like shit. Can a stupid boy be rebuilt into a man or a a mirror image of his hero? Can wings grow out of ciggarette burns and black eyes. Picking up pieces and shedding skins. Spinning in circles so fast I want to puke. Greeting daylight is becoming less and less common. Spinning around all my sorrys and smiles and weighing them out on a scale that does not lie. Forgetting that i hated that my grandparents smoked and rewriting my memories to make my bullshit ok. You can’t fake a faker and you can’t change the past. Never ever was I good at  things that make money and never have I been on my own. Never have I been without a place. The shelter will grow old and brittle and eventually like all things it will pass away. 

I’m laying in bed naked with a back ache. It reminds me that times running out. Shouting through a microphone and stomping around will one day be memories in boxes in the tops of closets in separate rooms. They will be locked in my heart and mind like things that fleeing families leave sorrowfully behind. Like baseball cards and swimming lessons. Like monkey bars and pumpkin carving. There is no cure for aging and no care from time. There is no fix for falling apart.

I’m laying in bed staring at a ceiling that I don’t love. I miss the house I grew up in. The dirt roads that I ran down as a child. I’m not sure where I’m going but I’m theres a wall somwhere with my name on it. Skimping by for 25 years now. How old do you have to be before you can officially be called a failure? Sailing through the clouds has brought me to here. I don’t love this ceiling and there are no curtains on my windows. I never put any up. Maybe its because I’m not staying. Some days I want to make this a home. full blown with flower beds, but some days I hate this house and the time I’ve spent here. Treading water isn’t awesome and it’s often the precursor to drowning. 

I’m laying in bed listening to birds make noises over and over again. Chirping the same notes like moors code. Folding my hands over my chest and worrying about ending up alone. Its by design. I moved myself away from wanting to fall in love and I feel like I might not. I have before but maybe not again. I’m not even sure I can. Maybe i got turned around and went through a one way door to where I am. 

dominickfox:

Here’s another video from last Sunday’s show. Thank’s again for everyone that came. It was definitely a lot of fun. I’ll be “announcing” some stuff for Bad Luck really soon, so if you care to, keep an eye out for that. Thanks.

badluckmusic.bandcamp.com

facebook.com/badluckmusic

This is the way of the world. It’s ugly and it lies. Crys of ill and spills are wiped up and discarded like cum off a stomach. Run it into the ground and find a new one. Disposable souls and replaceable roles. Scolded and molded into something that I never wanted to be. A fucking bum. Get a job and get a life. Try as one might to fight the good fight the truth is that every single person you meet will let you down at best or at worst steal the shoes off your feet. Greet each day with a smile and file down the walking stick to a tooth pick and then through that too away. Everyday is a struggle. Breathing is a chore. One day I like all won’t do it anymore. toiling in a garden that grows rocks to chain to my feet. Some weren’t meant for this world. 

I’m here and there. in and out. About this I’m not sure but it’s ok. If it happens it happens and if not thanks for the smiles. Files and charts in my head and heart. Starting to decipher a code. 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Carbomb-Sermon/295863787128495

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Wander through comic books and tv shows and wait around for the sound of glaciers melting. That’s what happens when you smile and thats what happens when our stars align. Signs and directions pointing to totally worth it. Walking through a world unbridled of the fear of being alone or the weight of trying to talk to every trick that trundles by. Why? Because theres a spark here between you and me even if its sometimes hard to see. And one spark while fickle and small can set the whole sky on fire. You I desire and will wait for because you’re worth it. Not perfect but no one is and I’ll be god damned if I live another day in sorrow. Tomorrow and the day after I will smile and think of your laughter against my face in the dark with your one pillow that we shared and the smell of your hair and skin so fair without a single care in the whole world for those few precious moments.