Sunday, August 31, 2008

poetry & aeroplanes

I’m tried of waiting. And time makes it harder without any life line of any sort. My standard response to situations like this? Forget. And then each time I contemplate running for the hills... and avoiding any chance of getting more involved – the movie scene from How To Make An American Quilt comes popping back in –

-You think it's easier to start all over again with something else?
-I don't know. Yes.
-How nice to be so... unattached to something.

Hasn’t that been my motto though? Nothing is constant. So if it’s taken from you, there will always be something else. The key to most resilience. M is right, each week is like a rollercoaster and at almost the same time every seven days, I hit rock bottom. Midway I start to pick up. Is this the answer to my consistent boredom with the whole situation?

Just when I thought I found what I thought I’ve been needing all this time…I start to doubt my own conclusion and give in to my apprehension. Here I go again…going against every single piece of advice that’s been thrown at me like a dart to a board.

There are no rules you can follow.
You have to go by your instinct.
And you have to be brave.

Maybe I should just lose myself in my favorite movies again…now is a good time to watch Someone Like You.

Jane: So you're saying?
Eddie: What've we got to lose?
Jane: Everything.
Eddie: Exactly.

I sometimes wish to stay silent. Maybe just continue writing and not say another word with my voice about the whole thing. I want to cry it out but nothing is coming out. I know talking about it with my friends won’t help. Just a big something stuck inside that persistently pains.

I hate this.

There was a party last night, last night
Cigarettes and empty bottles, empty bottles
Better open up this window, this window
Need some air to clear my head, clear my head
Alone in these strange beds I think that I've traveled enough
Poetry and Aeroplanes
I am tired of waiting for love
Tend to fall asleep in the fast lane, in the fast lane
Sometimes sinking low in the high life, in the high life
No more happy songs of heartbreak, oh' heartbreak
Or playing white knight misunderstood, misunderstood
Alone in these strange streets I think that I've walked them enough
Poetry and Aeroplanes I am tired of waiting for love
Another night I lie awake In woken dreams of faith and fate
Hope my love don't come too late
Hope my love don't come too late
Alone in these strange streets I think that I've walked them enough
Poetry and Aeroplanes I am tired of waiting for love

- Poetry & Aeroplanes by Teitur

posted by maldita @ 1:05 AM

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