Ode to Xanga:

I got a letter today
(alright, an e-mail, but I want this to be more romantic)

You pleaded for me:
Please don't leave me,
Or I'll have to leave you.

And somehow my heart,
Remembered how to enter again
My key hidden deep in my soul
(alright, my memory, but I want this to sound romantic).

And it's not that I forgot you,
Perhaps a little,
But only because my own selfish
Artist block.

I hadn't touched a pen in months
But I never go so long without feeling.
And I can't get rid of such long history,
Can you belive it's been about 5 years!

So xanga, I return.
Here's my words.
So no matter if anyone reads,
This is between you and me.

Love.

Sorry it's been a freaking year and then some (if anyone actually reads this) but I haven't really written much.  It's been pretty much a year long writers block/artists block/my life is on blocks (at least that's how I feel today).  Here's what I came to post. (man, i'm good at being depressing).

I feel...
I want to say how I feel
but I don't want pity
I don't want you to worry.
Imagine worth
They say the penny is worthless.

And I don't know what I'm doing wrong
(I know what I'm doing wrong).

I can't...
Fix it or change it
You can make friends but
You can't make them.
And I don't want you to worry
I've been through this.

And I keep doing this wrong
(Am I doing this wrong)?

I'm imagining
Am I imagining this?
Or am I really.
They say you can't dig to the bottom,
But what happens when you fall
Out the other side of the earth?

And I don't know what I'm doing wrong
(I know what I'm doing wrong).

I'm helpless
To fix my life, to make yours
Better, I can't make me better
I've tried for years
But I don't want to make you worry.
Who do I go to for this?

And I don't know how to do wrong
(I'm just doing everything wrong).

A hidden horizon
behind velvet sky and stars
between city lights and scars
that night hides
that consuming black covers
you can't see the crumbling bricks
or the broken boards
you can't see the crumbling old
or the broken young
night makes cities diamonds on velvet sheets
from the highway's distance
only from the distance
inside you still find brokeness
inside you still find hurt
superficial beauty
never really works