Numbers Leading To Infinity

He's the kind of boy who feels most comfortable walking the highway in the middle of the night because it scares him so badly that his hands shake. He is always safe, but he won't return home until he has succeeded in changing at least one person's life forever.

- - -

I haven't much to say this time around. Honestly, I think I'm writing here because I can't write for real. I'm back in another lapse of writer's block. It doesn't make any sense since I've been handed the absolute best sources of inspiration these past few days.

- - -

An old friend who's had a grudge against me for years now has finally chased away that stormcloud. It was so calming, and so enlightening. If she can fix her problems, so can I. Things are about to get real!

- - -

I've been scraping layers off my nails for the past hour, and now they're all chipped and rough and ruined. They leave little trails of red down my arms when I connect my freckles, and the picture doesn't come out to be anything beautiful.

- - -

Your blushing bride said the word "beautiful" the other day, and I wanted to die. Every step I took throughout the past month was erased, every wall shot down, and every hope had its wings ripped off. It's ridiculous that you've made me hate that word so much. It's ridiculous that I let you make me hate that word so much. I figured I should warn you because next time she gets a baseball bat to the back of the head, and you and I both know who would win in a fight.

- - -

Ah, my violent tendancies are spilling over my collarbones.

All Countdowns End In Fire And Stars

Whenever I think of us, all I can imagine is two-person planes crashing into the ocean and catching the whole blue disaster on fire. I wish it could be the snow that we crashed into for once, but you hate the snow and love the ocean, so it's always that damn monster of a sea. If only my sailor's legs could overpower my terrified mind. If only the plane didn't drown me every single time.

- - -

Within the past few weeks I've been exposed to more negative influences than I ever have in my entire life. It's almost like I've started over from the beginning. The summer always drags me away from my school year friends, but this time around I'm replacing them with all the wrong people: the users and abusers, bad seeds and royal fuck-ups, the drop-outs of society. These are the people I've surrounded myself with. Despite the feeling of corruption crawling up my spine, I do not regret this rotation of friends.

- - -

It's kind of funny how simply I can tell if I'll befriend someone or not. When I was a child, I picked my friends on looks. If they looked like a crazy person, we were cool. Now that I'm grown I've begun to see the truth to it all. It's not the way someone looks that sways me, or even the way they talk. It's all in the way a person thinks, reasons. I think of all of my closest friends, and I realize that I have befriended only multi-leveled people. I have no friends who are simply one level. In other words, I have no friends who are what they appear. Everyone I like is so in depth and worldly. I have smart friends, sure, but my dearest are all world-smart first. It's beautiful.

- - -

It seems like everyone I know is having a crisis of faith. Hey, guys, your god is just testing your faith! Isn't that what you all say? Well, dears, I'm pretty sure your gods wouldn't test you six times in the last two years. That is called doubt. Welcome to the world of disbelievers. We're more accepting anyway.

- - -

Why doesn't this shit hole city have a church that's open 24/7? Maybe then when it's four in the morning, and I have no where else to go, I can go there to sit in the back pew and mutter poetry under my breath. I'll write about saviors and boys with angel wings and salt water.

- - -

And it's 9am, so I'm gone.

Decimals To Fractions And Back Again

I was raised by my mother's hatred. She called me by my father's name and beat me with the fire iron when she caught me trying on his olds suits. My sisters were saved from her wrath, but she said she saw his violence in my eyes. I was the bastard son that reminded her of the monster husband. - - - I haven't lived a long time, but I've been through a lot. I've played culprit and victim too many times to tell them apart anymore, but I remember it all too well. Most of all, I remember the words. I've been given the greatest of all compliments, and I've been called things worse than what most people hope to never be called. Once you've witnessed both ends of the spectrum, what's left? After you've seen it all, what do you do? - - - Sleeping and I aren't on good terms, but after tonight - after tonight I think I can sleep again. I can feel my arms and legs breaking down into bones and flesh, seperated by a freezing river of blood. My wrists are waterfalls and the sink the sea. My eyes feel like marbles in my head, and my skin is made of torn sheets of paper, all held together by stapled freckles. My insides are shutting down, and my mind has fallen to the back of my head to hide from the light shining through my clear eyes. - - - What the fuck was that? - - - I've been staring at fireworks for my entire life, and I've been watching things explode even longer. These fires in the sky are nothing to peak my interest anymore. I'd rather stand with my arm wrapped around your waist, smile on my face and fingers playing a song on your ridcage. I'm staring into the face of the man who pulled you into the night, and he's trying not to catch my eyes. He's burning my fingers as we walk side by side down a splintered street of the city we once called home. Now it is nothing more than our cage.

Old Numbers On New Streets

But the boy, he muttered in his last breath, "Don't whisper my name like it's something special." He turned and was lost to the night. I stood, my fingers over my lips in case they felt like being naive again and whispering more names of dead boys.

- - -

Something is not right. I am not alone in this white house, but I haven't seen another monster in days. Not since I sat at the end of my driveway and watched the midnight traffic. Not since I fled the house and spent my insomniac hours with others. I left things, and when I returned - and when I returned. Oh, how things have changed. Something is not right here.

- - -

I have been around for 4 years. I have been running the streets with and crashing the weddings of the famous faces of this city. I have followed the rules and broken every law there is. We have knocked down more kings and masters and tyrants than these children have ever known. They are walking our city streets as if they own the world, weapons strapped to their hips. They're spitting at our feet and sneering in our faces. Alone, they cower in our shadow. But when they come with their armies of youth, they force us back because we follow the rules. We keep the peace and order and let travellers know that this city has retained its sanity. These children follow no rules. These children are burning our city down.

- - -

Would you believe me if I told you that everything I say means something else?

We've Been Sleep-Counting

She's been whispering in my ear all evening, warning me of the sunset. This woman named Insomnia kissed my ears all evening because she wanted me to herself in the following hours. She couldn't wait to lay down beside me and traces little broken hearts into my chest. Her words carressed my ears, and her fingers danced along my spinal cord all evening just so she could have me alone for a few fleeting hours. Insomnia loved me with my dark purple scars under my eyes. I loved Insomnia and the way she made me feel like the last person alive.

- - -

This isn't a cry out for help. I'm not that kind of girl (person, child, thing). Sound boy has been telling me all about his own sleeping problems, even if he doesn't think I've been listening. He whispers them into the night and hopes that someone hears him and saves him from himself. His heart may be more scarred than his arms.

- - -

Cancer boy must have finally fallen prey to the disease in his knees. He said he was going to walk until his legs wouldn't walk anymore. Perhaps his knees gave out in the middle of a freeway. It would be ironic for his freedom to end there, right after he paid his $1.25 in nickles and dimes. He tells me that it worries him that someone will raise the price up again. He wants to know why he has to pay for a freeway. Because you live on it, I told him. He always throws an extra nickle in now.

- - -

I was in a car wreck on Saturday. My brother couldn't break fast enough, and I watched as his courage crashed through the windshield. He's so broken now. He walks as if his legs are made of glass and might break if he runs. He stands close to me now and is always making sure I'm all right. I was in the passenger seat. I wonder if he's all right, but I never ask him anymore. I know he isn't. I know he won't be all right for a long time.

- - -

I've been falling asleep to sunrises and hoping that I never wake back up.