Dear Friend 001.
I'm thinking of you,
though I don't know you yet.
I'm sitting here,
temporary purple dye in my hair,
water glass in hand,
cold crimson in my arms,
and i think of you.
This hopeful entity,
you cross my mind every once in a while.
Someone who'll love me for me?
Someone who'll let me love them for them?
Someone who'll let me experience something beyond romance cliches, but secretly agree with them.
I don't know your race, gender, religion, home, i don't know your eye color, your favorite song, i don't know if I'll my first impression of you will be a good one, or vice versa.
I'm sitting here, 3:33 am, thinking of you and listening to 'heartbeats'.
Feeling a little inspired, i guess.
Mostly just mulling over recent things I've heard.
It's come to my attention that "sometimes two people are perfect for each other, but one doesn't see it because the other isn't the "prettiest,"." I wonder if I'll think you're the prettiest, I wonder if it will matter.
I am feeling a bit paranoid, and i don't know why.
I feel a revolution coming on.
I wonder if it will matter to you that I'm not a good painter,
that I like cliche books, or that I'm out of shape.
I wonder if you're wondering these same things.
I know I'm still young,
but when will you show up?
I wonder if you've read the perks of being a wallflower. I wonder if, like me, you're dissuaded by the tons of angsty "indie" kids who eat it up, from Mtv books's asshole. I wonder if you too don't give a fuck, and like the book because it makes you feel things.
I wonder if you liked this poem charlie read:
" Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen."
I wonder if you felt affected by it,
then called yourself emo and swore to "never give in to the 'mainstream'"
I wonder if you're embarrassed by liking things too.
I always re-read what i write,
this time i won't.
I hope the sincerity is making it through all these walls.
though I don't know you yet.
I'm sitting here,
temporary purple dye in my hair,
water glass in hand,
cold crimson in my arms,
and i think of you.
This hopeful entity,
you cross my mind every once in a while.
Someone who'll love me for me?
Someone who'll let me love them for them?
Someone who'll let me experience something beyond romance cliches, but secretly agree with them.
I don't know your race, gender, religion, home, i don't know your eye color, your favorite song, i don't know if I'll my first impression of you will be a good one, or vice versa.
I'm sitting here, 3:33 am, thinking of you and listening to 'heartbeats'.
Feeling a little inspired, i guess.
Mostly just mulling over recent things I've heard.
It's come to my attention that "sometimes two people are perfect for each other, but one doesn't see it because the other isn't the "prettiest,"." I wonder if I'll think you're the prettiest, I wonder if it will matter.
I am feeling a bit paranoid, and i don't know why.
I feel a revolution coming on.
I wonder if it will matter to you that I'm not a good painter,
that I like cliche books, or that I'm out of shape.
I wonder if you're wondering these same things.
I know I'm still young,
but when will you show up?
I wonder if you've read the perks of being a wallflower. I wonder if, like me, you're dissuaded by the tons of angsty "indie" kids who eat it up, from Mtv books's asshole. I wonder if you too don't give a fuck, and like the book because it makes you feel things.
I wonder if you liked this poem charlie read:
" Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year that Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it
Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.
Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen."
I wonder if you felt affected by it,
then called yourself emo and swore to "never give in to the 'mainstream'"
I wonder if you're embarrassed by liking things too.
I always re-read what i write,
this time i won't.
I hope the sincerity is making it through all these walls.
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