coolguyeagle76'
Well-known member
- Joined
- Oct 11, 2009
- Messages
- 225
- Reaction score
- 41
im 19, currently staying with my mom after traveling, squatting, living, loving through all the ups and downs. now that im back "home" im feeling lost, feeling home sick for somewhere i cant point to on a map, nowhere ive ever been, and maybe thats the point, i just dont know. I do know that when i see a train passing or hear it far off in the night when ive crawled out to sleep on the back porch cause the inside air tastes stale and the soft single bed hurts my back, i think that ghostly sad sound is as close as ive come.
sometimes when i was on the road i'd think about all the little things i was missing out on. thinking about a little garden or some old friends who seem more distant everytime i'd come visit, a place of my own, be it a squat or not, just so long as I have a porch where I can play my guitar. I honestly always forget that my friends back "home" never fucking got me or got too me like my friends on the road, not even close.
so here ive been for the past three weeks ,chasing around this idiot idea of a future with nothing to show for it but some lines on my forehead and a family who wanna baker act me. and i feel like theres no resolution, nothing that could change this dull taste of hopelessness, i could tell you my hearts in the road, but i'd be lying. its a good analgesic, but im still hurt and i want a cure not just a cover up, i want to be better, not just forget that im dying.
i have passion for so much of this life, and sometimes i get wrapped up thinking about how there wont be enough time to do it all, get so caught in that worry i dont do anything,i dont look up.
my mom asks if i want to talk about it, no i dont but have another drink and fall asleep wishing it was the seventies again and the old woman in the mirror werent so crushingly lonely (thousand yard stare), my dad says i should get a job, for what? (ive eaten caviar out of dumpsters nicer than the house you rent 40 years of hard labor under your belt dad, whats the fucking point dad? where did it get you? what, but broken back and heart dad? I dont want my kids to cry for their dad, dad.)
all these things i think about as i sit in front of the computer, in my moms quadraplex, one friend to my name, who can barely spend more than a half hour with me cause im so fucking nerotic all the time, i just dont know what i want to do when i grow up and i dont think you do either. so i will end this spasm with a toast to the lost lost lost forever, we may hurt, we may not but we gotta keep going and growing, i want nothing more than to live up 100% with my own ideals, its really not too much to ask. good night.
sometimes when i was on the road i'd think about all the little things i was missing out on. thinking about a little garden or some old friends who seem more distant everytime i'd come visit, a place of my own, be it a squat or not, just so long as I have a porch where I can play my guitar. I honestly always forget that my friends back "home" never fucking got me or got too me like my friends on the road, not even close.
so here ive been for the past three weeks ,chasing around this idiot idea of a future with nothing to show for it but some lines on my forehead and a family who wanna baker act me. and i feel like theres no resolution, nothing that could change this dull taste of hopelessness, i could tell you my hearts in the road, but i'd be lying. its a good analgesic, but im still hurt and i want a cure not just a cover up, i want to be better, not just forget that im dying.
i have passion for so much of this life, and sometimes i get wrapped up thinking about how there wont be enough time to do it all, get so caught in that worry i dont do anything,i dont look up.
my mom asks if i want to talk about it, no i dont but have another drink and fall asleep wishing it was the seventies again and the old woman in the mirror werent so crushingly lonely (thousand yard stare), my dad says i should get a job, for what? (ive eaten caviar out of dumpsters nicer than the house you rent 40 years of hard labor under your belt dad, whats the fucking point dad? where did it get you? what, but broken back and heart dad? I dont want my kids to cry for their dad, dad.)
all these things i think about as i sit in front of the computer, in my moms quadraplex, one friend to my name, who can barely spend more than a half hour with me cause im so fucking nerotic all the time, i just dont know what i want to do when i grow up and i dont think you do either. so i will end this spasm with a toast to the lost lost lost forever, we may hurt, we may not but we gotta keep going and growing, i want nothing more than to live up 100% with my own ideals, its really not too much to ask. good night.
