You need the cushion for the pushin; cause hunny; the lovin just aint there.
And Ill say it once as if I have said it forever,
Let the good times rock
And the bad fukin roll.
Cause were in a groove and we cant stop shakin to our own sounds.
No matter how our heads pound.
Lets the goods take over and melow melow melow.
And baby, lets see if I cant be your fellow.
Sticks and stones may not break your bones,
but words stick with you.
What the sticks could not bruise
The words cut
What the stones could not break
The words destroy
Betrayal a sick sick addiction
Made worse by the sweet lips of another
And multiplied by your sad little Adam.
Your favorite baby narcisist bear.
Lights out!
Readjust!
Now look away from me!
What do you see?
"Its dark. . . . ."
There is still so much more to learn in the dark than just to see.
Hide and Seek
Close your eyes then Peek
What do you see?
A hazy shadow of what you once saw so clearly
Now spin around while looking up and down
Now stop
The world is spinning as your mind attempts to comprehend the world around it.
Impossible.
Now run and dont look back.
Forget what you were viewing altogether.
Erase it from memory.
ridingalilbike.blogspot.com
to find out what is going on with me.
Avett Brothers was a horrible choice.
Sleep in my eyes,
Shakeing in my hands,
And the smell of a girl's perfume still lingering on my skin.
I waited a year for that perfume.
Her eyes were still the same,
Maybe a little lower,
But they still held the world.
Its never been so apparent to me;
Our diffrences.
She is such a beautiful girl,
But such a sad one.
The only one that can wrench me like she can.
Maybe I will see her little eyes again,
Maybe I will kiss her little lips in passion again,
Maybe I will hold her heart once more.
Doughtfull,
But atleast I had my night with her gypsy soul and her velvet skin.
Hide and seek
Lie and wait.
Deep inhale
Short exhale.
I tried to put my finger on it,
yet it eluded me once more.
There it goes,
and there it went.
Hide and Seek.
Somethings mean more than thier obvious appearance.
Sometimes what didnt fit, now fits like a glove.
where are we?
what the hell is going on?
the dust has only just begun to form
crop circles in the carpet
sinking feeling
spin me round again
and rub my eyes,
this can't be happening
when busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy
hide and seek
trains and sewing machines
all those years
they were here first
oily marks appear on walls
where pleasure moments hung before the takeover,
the sweeping insensitivity of this still life
hide and seek
trains and sewing machines (oh, you won't catch me around here)
blood and tears (hearts)
they were here first
Mmmm whatcha say,
Mmm that you only meant well?
well of course you did
Mmmm whatcha say,
Mmmm that it's all for the best?
of course it is
Mmmm whatcha say?
Mmmm that it's just what we need
you decided this
whatcha say?
Mmmm what did she say?
ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs
speak no feeling no I don't believe you
you don't care a bit,
you don't care a bit
(hide and seek)
ransom notes keep falling out your mouth
mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut outs
(hide and seek)
speak no feeling no i don't believe you
you don't care a bit,
you don't care a (you don't care a) bit
(hide and seek)
oh no, you don't care a bit
oh no, you don't care a bit
(hide and seek)
oh no, you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
you don't care a bit
Shoulder hurts
Back hurts
Shins hurt. . . . . . .
How do I still enjoy riding that tiny little object so much?
I dont know, but I do.
Long live bike riding, and here is to hopeing I live long enough to enjoy everything it offers.
The copious amounts of alchol intertwain with his blood cells to form an Adam that most dont know. The angry Adam, the dark Adam, and the scared Adam. All he is now is a wastefull waste of space; a mere mortal in a league of extrodinary people. His skin is tan, his lips are full, and his head and heart are empty.
He spent to much time reading again. Normaly this would come as an amazing flaw to have but lately it seems more like a curse.
What he reads isnt considered great works of art by the masses. They are not well worn books filled with poems written by the finest lovers, and they are not action laced novels written half the thickness of a brick.
No. . . . . . no, they are but the words of adolescent young girl trying to understand the mysteries of life and how they relate to her.
One object of her writing strikes him more than any other; her take on love. What begins with him saying "what a beautiful young girl, oh how sweet and naive she is, she has so much to learn and so much to love." Turns into him wondering why the poor girl decideded to take such a narrow and sweeping road to love.
"This boy!" he exclaims. "This boy is the root of her bad, her sorrow, and her guilt! This dumb moronic boy!"
Adam slowly tilts his head downwards and begins to weep. The tears roll off of his cheek and onto the cold grown below him. Devestation feels his body and becomes far more powerful than the alcohol could wish to become. Hands shaking and head pounding he regains his strength. . . . . . All he hears is the whisper of the air conditioning behind him.
As he slowly raises his head he mumbles something slowly and methotiacly as though he was speaking directly to his own god. "Im sorry, Im so very sorry. Im sorry for what I did. . . . . to her and I both."
I said what I meant, and I meant what I said; yet something doesnt sit easy with me. Maybe the loosing of a friend, the nights without a companion that I know so well, or the warm heart that kept me cozy; if only in my head. Why would anything still torment me after so much time had past. Could it be? Could it be that this. . . this person holds more of me than I would ever like to admit to. The words I say in confidence to myself cannot be taken literal for I am only a foolish boy with a soft smile and tempting eyes; no more; no less. My depth is shallow and my heart still fluttering from the wings of the moths that now occupy it. This is damnation what I am doing to myself, and I dont know for how much longer I should hold onto what now is just a memory. Damnit memory! What should I do! Im so broken, so hurt, and so sad! . . . . . . . and confused at how i should tiptoe around my love with a girl that no longer exists to me. Are you lashing out in jealousy or true dismissial of my entire existance. Are my relenting feeling for my memory wrongly placed in just a memory?
Good day and Goodnight
Adam Clayton Haynes
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