james-the-game

I never thought I'd get used to rolling fog again... That I'd come so close to losing you, That all the deepest parts of me might change again. My life has been all plains lately- Flat, planned and apparent for miles, years, lifetimes; I worked for that-I earned it-and yet I didn't. And even if I did, promises are sweet and fleeting So I go back And I strain to see through the morning fog: A few feet, a moment, a day ahead- What's around the corner? Your loving embrace- or a stopped car and the end of it all? The only way to know is to keep straining Harder than before-because I know what you are worth now. The fog will make my eyes, my h

What I want and reality Are never the same- Never even possible. The two scorn the very idea of each other. So what is this wonderful dream? And how is it that when I woke this morning You were still here? I smile, you smile, People are proud of us- Even jealous. But someone told me you’re not real; What if you’re not real? You can’t be real. When I wake up in the morning, Surely you’ll be gone, And I can get back to my regularly scheduled misery.

Apathy, my dearest friend: It seems to me we meet again. Is this cycle at an end, Or is that stop sign just pretend? Last week’s anger faded away; Paranoia is gone today. Empty slate is here to stay, Mind so blank, nothing to say. Chances taken all are past, Actors here are all typecast; In the corners, clutching brass- No ambition in this class. Slipping sideways at a crawl; If I don’t stand then I can’t fall; Alcohol could solve it all, I don’t fear the Reaper’s call. Will I one day pay for this? Tender touch of karmic kiss? One train stared at, next near miss; Time to slide into abyss.

I don’t think I would feel a thing Even if this cigarette lighter burned a hole Straight through my head. I could be locked in this prison for the rest of my life- Denied parole or pardon, And I will never go insane; I’d scream “I earned this” until I died. My hand and this page and my rage could fall off; All I would do is stare and laugh At the mess on the ground before me. Sometimes I think I could grow wings, Fly off into the blue sky; But what if birds all fly at the sun? My end would come before it began. I can’t tell if this gaze locked on me is death or my friends- It doesn’t matter though

Sometimes I feel like the stupidest person alive, Like I was last in line when they handed out brains, So the one I got was totally rotten- Empty inside, no use to anyone. How can I be a genius when I feel this way? I lost all I had because I wanted to; Maybe needed, too; I can’t even tell anymore. There are days I stay in bed, So I don’t have to face the world, Hide in my cave until forced out- Because it’s easier that way. The things that are right for me Look like poison with my eyes like this; I rip the 3D glasses off, And fade into my mind. The place where flames dance for no reason Through the pillars of

The sky is the kind of midnight blue that says it is tired of being black. I watch airplanes fly low in the sky, Wishing that I could join them Instead of being stuck at this plodding pace. I feel like I’m on fire, struck in a slow motion scene. I feel like I’m a hero, but I don’t know who to save. I feel like I’m running into a brick wall over and over. I usually don’t feel at all. Why can’t I move? Why can’t I get out? Why can’t I run? Why is this all the same?

Pieces of paper and thin stamped cards Mean everything in our world. I carry one that has my name and picture. It says that I can drive as long as I wear my glasses. It also tells the cashier that I can buy this beer, And a cop about the tickets I got in the past. I carry one that says the name of my school. It gets me discounts on food and at the movies, Because I look way too young to be a graduate, And I still live in this college town. It is in direct contrast to the paper I wait for, But earned early last month- The one that says I know what I’m doing, Or at least completed a program of studies In literature and writin

I've seen twenty two trips around the sun; While this crazy rock whirled and spun. But I can't help being scared of this one, 'Cause I'm about to run. Chorus: I'm leaving behind all I am, Laying tires and making plans, I can't believe this is coming out my mouth: I'm about to up and leave the south. Here we chicken fry our chicken, And we chicken fry our steak. And if the sun's up, when you get up, Then it's already getting late. Here it's all 'bout family and God, Spoil the child when you spare the rod; A kindly wave and a friendly nod. And my long hair making me odd. [Repeat Chorus] And I've got no definition... About to

I found your drawings today, In a notebook unopened since high school- Three sketches, hastily drawn while my back was turned- Probably getting lectured about missing a deadline, Or putting too much me into an editorial about the war, Not enough "The Eagle's Eye"; Three sketches that some up who you are to me. The mushroom cloud is who you used to be- And who I used to be, to a lesser extent- A little psychotic, maybe, from too many video games, But fun all the same, and smarter than we deserved to be; Chess and War and Risk, games of strategy- But it parlayed into responsibility and not taking over the world; What a shame. The

The song is a lie. There's no magic word, to make it begin; No special someone, so inherently perfect, That's they'll never ever get under your skin. Love is hard work As much as it's pleasure; Without the struggle, There can be no treasure. The movie is a lie. It never happens that way; The world isn't gonna change In two hours or two days. Real change takes time, Mountains of commitment. Trying for the quick fix Ends only in resentment. The video game is a lie. If you did that you'd be in prison; Wasting away from the rest of your life, Based on one bad decision. Besides, you couldn't do that stuff, Even if you tried;