if i could choose anything,i'd say you were a magician.you give the "illusion of truth",masked with a wonderful disguise.how wise of you.and if i could choose anything,i'd say i'm the invisible man...maybe i can get close,but i choose not to.there's still a barrier between meand all the others.i often hide and shy away,and i don't know why(even though i'd be happier if i didn't).introverted tendencies, i guess.but it makes me feel so selfish.(and it's all for the wrong reasons.)i should feel ashamed, maybe.but it's the disconnection thathardens up my heart.

i'm crawling in Fairydust,
Apprehended by the scent of my
Tall cigar,
wondering and waiting for the day
he'll smile,
(as i'm)
wailing on my sailboat
for luxury suites,
and bars.




Love handles.

Zelig (song lyrics)

Your eloquence amazes me;
fancy diction.
Structured vocab.

Who are you?

A human chameleon,
you adapt to change,
but you're never the same.

Simple conversation isn't so bad.
You seem the same,
for the most part anyway. But...

Who are you?

A human chameleon,
you adapt to change,
but you're never the same.

I fell in love at first sight,
but was it all a facade?

A facade, a facade.
Too many faces,
too little traces
of a genuine soul.

Who are you?

A human chameleon,
you adapt to change,
but you're never the same.

Talking about a certain someone I used to have a crush on in high school. But this can apply to almost anybody who acts differently in front of different audiences (I would say that everyone does this, including myself). Zelig is the name of a Woody Allen film about a man who is a "human chameleon" and changes physically (and perhaps mentally?) in accord to the people he is around. I never watched it, but I want to.

Endymion

My gorgeous

Endymion

.

Rest now, and forever,
and hold your tongue until then.
Your youthful demeanor is too fragile,
too stunning
to be marred by the disasters of humankind.

The dirt from my soul
may very well soil your pores
and clog your pure countenance.

Don't look now!
Rest. Sleep, and be peaceful.
Beauty is a gift, correct?
Isn't that what we know?

But poor you,
you gorgeous

Endymion

.

Sleep and ignore the world,
and let time turn its tables without you
so that you may flourish without the burdens
of the hourglass sand grains.

Fortunately,
my love is saved for another,
so as to be careful not to mar your
assumed-to-be SUPERIOR defiance (of society, of life).

And he, oh he is gorgeous.
Not quite the way you are,

my dear.

His heart is stunning,
he radiates with cheer.
He brings me absolute joy,
just by being with him, breathing with him.

But you.
You can stay asleep,
piece of artwork that you are,

Endymion

.

Let anybody observe you and delve in your seductive contours.
And wait for that one moment
when you will dream
(a nightmare, hopefully),
and awaken to the one who will smile at your heart.

At your Heart.


Endymion is a Roman pagan mythological character who was a beautiful youth, rewarded with eternal and undisturbed sleep. But does beauty matter most when it comes to love?

label.

you've become a label in my heart.
there's nothing else, really, that comes to mind.
except maybe the treasurechest memories i'll never redeem.
never resurface from my
rather, tattered
fiery
conscience.

you've lost all hope from my disposal,
venturing into other women's hearts.
a fool,
such a blatant, obvious amateur
(when, in fact, you have went SUCH a longer way).

but you never really learn, do you.

i should have taught you from the start
that love doesn't mean self-centeredness
and that your fury was my demise;
i thought i had implied that enough.
didn't imagine you were denser than all
the oceans of the sea
the earthquakes of the heavens
the clouds of your opaque conscience.

you're a jerk.
open your numbed-skull head.
you've become a label in my heart,
i'm sorry to say.

and you're nothing else to me.


He's a label, now. A depressing thought, but it's true. A very straightforward poem, I know.