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PushPullRevolvingDoors
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Name: justin
Interests: To begin... To begin... How to start? I'm hungry. I should get coffee. Coffee would help me think. Maybe I should write something first, then reward myself with coffee. Coffee and a muffin. So I need to establish the themes. Maybe a banana nut. That's a good muffin.
Industry: Art
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
9/9/2004
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| oh, old friend,
i miss those times too, you know,
those moments of wistful idealism,
the comradery of indecision,
the pursuit of fate and folly,
lifting fists to the air with reckless abandon,
a whirlwind of emotion and longing,
a freight train of progress and anguish...
...and then our train blew its horn,
and pulled up to my stop
(which had been there all along,
discarded and abandoned,
a well-worn seat, though seldom used,
often pursued but rarely found,)
so i stepped out,
and turned around,
ready to grab your bags,
...but found myself all alone,
nothing but wooden planks of the train stop,
and my worn wooden seat with my name carved in the top.
...so i picked up my seat,
and started trudging down the tracks,
the estrangement nigh-tangible,
my loneliness miserable,
but my silence comfortable.
Sometimes i can hear the train in the distance,
(as i trudge along this lonely track,
my well-worn seat in hand, a comfort in hard times,
a silent friend when I don't feel like talking,
a companion when i'm all alone)
and i wonder if you're still on the train,
and when your stop will come up.
...and i wish that my stop had been yours,
because now i sit on my seat
by the side of the tracks,
and wait for the whistle that will signal the train's return.
because sitting by the tracks
listening to the train
s p e e d i n g
into the distance,
and knowing that you're being left far behind in the dusk,
can be a very lonely place to be.
but that's okay, old friend.
the quiet can be peaceful after dark,
and i don't miss the rumble of the train.
i'll have a fire waiting for you when you find your way back here.
(and i have a very comfortable seat that you can borrow if you'd like.)
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| let's write a book for burning let's write our thoughts and all our learning throw away all our knowledge and emotion til we are all the same yeah until we are all the same.
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| hello, stranger.
what a surprise this must seem to be, finding you here with your dark hair and baggy jeans, cigarettes and lollipops and mindless rhetoric. what a surprise, what a pleasure. this reminds me of that time we rode the rapids together and jumped the car off the bridge just to see what it was like to fly. remember that trip stranger of mine, with your crooked smile and uplifted fists with no thought of tomorrow? i remember the drives into the night where the road would end and we would start to fly, slowly rising like a star into the darkness. the treetops would drop below us and vanish into the distance and the clouds would overtake us like a fog. remember that, stranger? i have fond memories of those days. remember the time that we just sat on the grass and shared dreams together, guest appearances and footraces through the fields of our minds? remember that, stranger? oh, you don't?
well.
then.
i guess.
neither do i.
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| just so you know...
i'm officially shutting this thing down, in a few days.
however i'm gradually starting something new,
find it here
farewell, all.
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| ...
i think i''m going to abandon this for something new.
i'm tired of xanga.
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