waking up in baltimore to find the world in my bathroom
but I look through everyone trying to find you
cause you left that night in such a hurry
you forgot to say goodbye
so excited to start a new life

this morning my fingers smell like the sea
it makes me long for a new life just the same
with a fisherman for a lover
always coming home late at night
smelling of the sea, a lobsterman’s wife

so don’t forget to wash your hands
and don’t forget to wash behind your ears
cause that big and lonely bed of yours
will spit you back out if you smell like the sea

have tumblr
will tumble?
http://justkiddingdouglasadams.tumblr.com/

maybe I'll grow my hair real long
longer than it's ever been
and when I can't stand the sight of you or the thought of your face
I'll hide behind the waves of hair that will fall around my face
while I try to find a reason to forget you or leave you for another
but baby we've got time until my hair gets that long
and maybe I'll just keep it short

"is the passion all gone or is it still newly wed?
cause all this heat's doing is making us stick to the bed
and there's no life to revive
but if the hunger's still there, buried somewhere inside,
covered up by the boredom we've been trying to hide
we can dig it up and devour...

it'll seem more like a song and less like it's math
if you pull on my hair and bite me like that"




Oh, Conor

spinning

do I make you nervous?
or are you just craving body heat?
because I know your nights are lonely and your bed feels big and cold,
but summer's almost over and the fall is rolling in
on breezes soft with liquor and smoke from old cigarettes
so cheer up honey cause this place isn't so bad
you're just used to something different and you hate feeling this sad

"if I told you that I loved you would you reach out and touch me?"
because I know all you want is something to touch that vaguely reminds you of the happiness you once believed in,
but you're hanging out on some pedestal I built especially for you
and if you tried to touch me from there you'd just fall and your bones would rot

do you crave the heat next to you in bed when you lie awake and the smell of metal and the taste of sweat and the sound of the wind let you realize that you are so alone you want to dance naked with strangers until you explode from exhaustion? do you miss the sound of breathing when you wake at 4 in the morning scared she's gone again? but this time she's gone for good
her train left at 5 in the morning and by then you'd gone back to sleep
safe and sound
she's headed to france indefinitely
but she was inspired by you
you wanted to wait around and plan; that is not the kind of girl she was.
is.
and i'm trying to pick up your pieces, but i'm trying not to fall in love

back to this

do I make you nervous?
or are you just craving body heat?
because I know your nights are lonely and your bed feels big and cold,
but summer's almost over and the fall is rolling in
on breezes soft with liquor and smoke from old cigarettes
so cheer up honey cause this place isn't so bad
you're just used to something different and you hate feeling sad

cheesy movies can truth it

"this is the best part."
"what?"
"the anticipation."

do I make you nervous?
or are you just looking for body heat?

and suddenly I remember why I left you behind

I see your chest moving but breathing and respiration do not prove anything to me
because I am leaving in the fall when all the colors start to turn away from the greens
and kiss the cheeks of red and yellow
this does not mean anything to you and me because we realize the importance of fingers and toes
and that kissing is not supposed to be serious because that is just absurd
who likes to kiss seriously?
it is much more fun when no one's feelings get hurt
but that is not always so easy to perfect
because sometimes I miss the winter and I wonder if you do too
and though everything would be terrible it could have been great
was great
for just a day or two
for just a week or two
for a month or so

wandering and rambling

I am unsure if there is enough passion within me to pursue art. After witnessing people my age with such bone-crushing passion within them I feel unfit to call myself any kind of artist. Perhaps the passion will come forth in these next few years while at school. At least I can only hope. If this is not the case I fear I will not know what to do with myself; continue acting, writing, making music and making art in a mediocre fashion? I feel spread too thin and fairly decent at things instead of committed and really great at one thing. This feels so wrong and I do not know if it is due to a fear of committing to anything or just the simple inability to make a decision.
Perhaps it is far too late for all of these thoughts, but I simply cannot help it.

On another note, I am listening to my own music which I rarely do because it feels so egotistical and wrong. I am proud of the EP I created last year, but as with everything I make it feels so stale and boring now. However, I still feel the things I felt when I wrote/recorded these songs and I believe that really means something. At any rate I feel like it is time for another release, something really great, something to make you proud and something you might actually want around your house. I hope you still like the EP because I am still very proud of it, but I cannot help feeling it is time for something new, especially since I will be beginning a new chapter of this life in the fall. I would like to put something out just before I leave in August, but I make no promises to the few of you who read this.

I feel as though I have rambled and I am sorry if you were looking for more silly lyrics or poems about a silly idea of love; maybe next time.

optimistic winter

dunno if this was ever/is here, but...

there's a hole in my wall where a girl used to be and she would tell me stories
about the things she'd done and the things she'd seen

then one day she packed up her things and she flew away
but things will be okay things are always okay and even if things aren't okay
there's always something
something to look forward to

like a letter from a friend who lives far away
or a song about a friend who lives far away
or the weather getting colder and the days getting shorter and the noses getting redder and the scarves getting longer

"the end of a spark"

it stops here
you've got stripes that are supposed to camouflage the looks you give me in the night
but your eyes are too bright
and your teeth are too white
when you smile that terrible smile and the dark room sparkles like there are diamonds on the wall or glitter in the paint
like some awfully retro house from the 80s

it stops here
but I remember when everything was the same and so do you
I got too bored and you got too scared to move your legs
it probably didn't help that they were broken,
but you broke them yourself,
why did you do that?
and then I left you with your broken legs and your fear because you were too plain and safe and the flashes in the dark in front of me were too enticing

it stops here
maybe one day I will come back for you and you won't be there
thank god

this is just a simple list
a too-literal list of things i'd like to do with you
let's drink lots of coca-cola and smile even more when all of our teeth fall out
and let's sleep all day even when the sun begs us to run in its rays
then when the moon comes out we'll keep our eyes busy with the tv-blue light
even if I will feel a little guilty about it later

this has been floating around in my head for the past two weeks

one morning you woke up to find
your insides hanging round outside

She & Him - In The Sun from Merge Records on Vimeo.

romantic bullshit?

you found me fumbling around in the dark, fingers splayed, soaking up warmth from the earth. you lifted me up and helped me into the dusk, crescent moon rising in the distance. i found my hand in yours and realized tomorrow didn't matter because in the mountains you can get lost so easily, but you will always be found.

O' attachment,
whatever are you doing here?

tired

ours was a winter love
red noses and cool fingertips
melting now that spring has come round
unfreezing my bones
allowing me to open my eyes
and see that it is better to be
what you feel
rather than
what you think
ours was a winter love
red eyes and cool nights
maybe next winter i'll see you round
and we can talk about the weather
or how much you miss late telephone calls
with some girl you cannot really remember
but you liked the sound of her voice in your ear
and the curve of her spine

this is only a test

those things you did

broken spines lying on the bedroom floor
gutless; no courage here, but there are
flowers springing up between rib bones
your fingers still don't know what to do with mine
and you say your clothes never fit right but that really doesn't matter
cause the innumerable blankets in my bedroom work so much better than your ill-fitting clothes
wandering hands and feet underneath
a bed of useless fabric:
clothes, blankets, curtains
and all i want to know is
did you mean it?

paintz and bodiez

with paint all over my hands and underneath what is left of my bitten fingernails I find solace in the fact that you and I feel the same way about the clouds and being naked and fucking; all separate.



I hope you know I write about imaginary people and events that have never happened.
all the time.

repeat

my bed's too small for all of us
but the winter is cold enough
and we're limber enough to make it
work somehow
and in the morning when the sun is
rising and I find myself the only one
awake my senses are overflowing
the orange glow coming through the window
slow breathing syncing up once in a while
coffee stuck to my teeth from 3 am
sweat and happiness filling my lungs
and a tangle of arms and legs
a maze of fingers and toes
endlessly intertwined

found these in my notebook, nothing too good.

I just cling to phrases and words,
repeating them until my breath becomes
the breeze that stirs the leaves
of the trees that used to let us
sing to them all night
they've turned bitter with the
winter months and it is never
the same now that "us" has become
"me and sometimes you"

this winter in lingering
and the sweet kisses I once received
have turned to stinging nettles
breaking my skin just enough
to let me know
I am far from the end

I once found comfort in a
camera lens and then a pen, never
a sword, now it seems my comfort comes from floating in endless space
words like "I love you" or "I miss
you" and "in the summer we will
be whole again" pass by
every one, broken

this is it
"there is no plan we can fall back on"
______________________________

I sit in this room
stereo blasting
12:47 in the morning
we talk
we shout
about finding meaning in things
and how music is something you
could do forever if you wanted
and the tracks need not be perfect
in fact we like them just that way
how else would they know we are alive?
and he is there playing a riff
from the next song that is blasting
and time was not moving
it was 12:47 forever and we
had the same conversation
and he played the same riff
for eternity
and it felt nice
for eternity
and eternity did not feel like all those philosophers told me it would
because you are my hero
and we were in the same place
talking about the same things
for eternity
______________________

waking up with your face inches from mine
is unreal and feels like betrayal
but I push that down to the place
in my stomach where bad feelings fester
"the electricity wasn't in her eyes
anymore"
and I hung up the phone when you
fell asleep, feeling like there should
have been something more to say
feeling like screaming into darkness
but we never have anything to
say anymore and I can barely read
my own handwriting because I
am shaking with fear
"her eyes were still reflecting what
was there
but now it was the sadness...."

sleepies

we slept in the same bed for
14 years.

-----------------you still snored as loudly as you did
-------------on the night of our wedding.

------------------------------until one night
---------------------------you just stopped
-------------------------------and I finally got some sleep.

do not read this, really. move on. no really.

WHY HAVE I BECOME SUB-CONSCIOUSLY OBSESSED WITH TRAINS WHAT IS GOING ON I WILL BE A CONDUCTOR WHAT AM I SAYING MY FINGERS WILL NOT STOP AGAIN AND I CANNOT TELL YOU WHAT MY HEAD IS THINKING.
Oh yeah, trains.

this will surely be on the summer soundtrack

watch out.

just so easy

I found your I miss yous in the back of my closet. I hadn't seen them in a while and I guess I threw them there when I missed you too much and then they got buried, and then they got buried beneath my dirty clothes and old backpacks. I forgot how your voice sounded not distorted by telephone wires and miles. So I am writing to tell you that I miss you and I want you to come home for a while. Maybe this won't get buried among your dirty clothes and old cigarettes, but I understand if it does,
because it is just so easy.

i don't know what this is.

I woke up next to you only to discover that my dream was just a dream and you were just asleep. My feet were not worn from walking with you to the field where old traincars and bicycle wheels lie in wait for humanity to destroy them or realize they still hold some practicality, not just nostalgia.
The traincars were wooden with paint the color of rust and christmas-tree-green chipping from years of weather happening.
The bicycle wheels were few in number and normal in size, yet the spokes were not so rusted; maybe the wheels get up in the night and wander through the trainyard, finding little animals to play practical jokes on then they make their way back to their resting places to sleep all day. And in the rain they reconcile with the animals and hide in their nests, to keep their spokes shining-new, just as the first day they were ridden home. O wheels, how did you end up here?
So I woke up next to you feeling that there was more between us than there actually was, that we had just spent the day riding wooden train cars and screaming rebellious songs.
"Do what you want, fuck everything else!"
And when you finally woke up I tried to remember that we were the same, nothing had changed. Well if anything had changed it was me because I had this dream where we rode trains that we thought were too fragile to support us, but instead they slung us around with the strength and speed of 10,000 Amtrak trains.
10,000 Amtrak trains? What?
And then we sipped coffee. You sipped cause you like the way black coffee tastes and because you need it to wake you up and to stave off that headache you've got from the night before. I sipped cause I like the way black coffee tastes on my teeth later and because I just like to be with you when the sun comes through the blinded windows in slats; I have no headache.
After the sipping we sat on the front porch, soaking up the sun and letting all of our small talk say the things we could not.
"What time does your train leave?"
"6:30."
"Do you want to eat dinner before?"
"Sure. Let's make a feast."
"A feast, eh? That sounds good."
"Yeah, we can go shopping in a bit."
"Okay.........have you seen my jacket?"
"I think it is on the coffee table. I'll get it for you."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I need a refill anyway."
OR
Don't leave. Just stay a little longer.
I have to, you know.
I know, but it is nice when you are around.
I cannot.
Why?
You know why.
What is it that we are doing?
How am I supposed to know. Does it matter?
I guess not.
I will see you when your cheeks are red from summer and when things will make less sense.
And so we waited around and cooked dinner and I ended up not going to the train station because I did not want you to see me cry. We are nothing and tears do not solidify that fact, they only make things seem more serious and who needs seriousness at a time like this?
We are nothing.

I feel like typing until my fingers are broken but I have nothing to say except that I wish I had something to say. The conundrum of the writer writing about having terrible writer's block; maybe this will blossom into something unknown and beautiful.
Nah. Maybe not.



I would like to stay in bed and watch movies and do nothing and eat pizza with you because you are one of the few people I can be content doing nothing with. There is no pressure to entertain. Besides, you know more about movies and directors than anyone I know. And we witnessed that light in my room that day. Wish you were here for spring break, but this means you will be around for the summer, yeah? See you when you get home. I have Funny Games now, just so you know.

I connected all the things I love
with red thread

--------------just in case I lost sight of one
-------------and could not breathe.

---------------------I guess I tied it around your neck too tight
----------------cause when I found you, you were bright blue.

sweaty palms

you might have thought we could be in love
but that prospect just makes me laugh
because I only like the way our palms sweat when we hold hands
and how fast your heart beats when you think of kissing me
and how we almost fit together, almost, not quite
and I don't mean to break your heart
but I don't mean to do a lot of things I do

you might have thought we could be some kind of forever
but that just makes me smile
because I only like the sound your car door makes when I slam it shut
and the way your eyes dart around in the TV-blue light
and the way your mouth fits with mine, again almost, but not quite
and I don't mean to break your heart
but I don't mean to do a lot of things I do

imitation

wrote some of my own a softer world style poem/comic/vignette/things(?) today...

1.
sometimes I think about crashing the car

------------------------because I am tired of driving
--------------------------------with no place to go

----------------------------------and with no car maybe we could
----------------------------------walk to nowhere instead.

2.
I know you're going through
-------a lot of changes right now;

----------------------zombification is tough,

---------------------------------------------but I am going to need my
--------------------------------------Springsteen records back. now.

3.
when I look at the clouds
I can see the future.

-------------------------------war here in five years,
-------------------------------famine there within the
---------------------------------------------------decade.

---------------------------------------sometimes it's good stuff too,
-----------------------like you and me skinny-dipping tonight.

-I think you are beautiful
and I would like to kiss you.

-------------------I can think up some
----------------------------clever lines,
-------------------------if you'd prefer.

---------------------------------------But I wanted to
-------------------------------------------say that, first.

what?

you don't taste like the others.


"I never expected you to be nice, but nobody should ever feel that powerful."

mistake made and it only existed in movies once but now i can understand the reaction and the immediate regret

i found my moleskine

most of the time my spine hurts because I never have any kind of decent posture
lately I cannot stand the way my hair falls in my face
so I think i will just cut it all off and put it in a box
and stash it under the bed
so when you ask me where all my hair's gone I will have an exact answer.

you might have thought we could be in love
but that just makes me laugh
because I only like the way our palms sweat when we hold hands
and how fast your heart beats when you think about kissing me
and how we almost fit together but don't, not really
and I don't mean to break your heart
but I don't mean to do a lot of things I do

how does it feel to you when I tell you what I believe?
and how does it feel when we talk about things that have gone and happened?
the smiles in your eyes are back again I haven't seen them in quite a while, where've they been?
I haven't seen you in quite a while, where've you been?

pet cemetery

this morning i walked out
to my backyard
and i'll tell you what i saw
it was something to behold

i saw a
hamster limping my way
with a look of ferocity in his eyes
and a parakeet long expired
looking to peck out my brains

my dead pets are alive
i think they want revenge
my old best friends are zombies
i think they want my flesh

now there's a
guinea pig missing two legs
dragging himself towards my living flesh
accompanied by a rat
stumbling blindly without any eyes

my dead pets are alive
i think they want revenge
my old best friends are zombies
i think they want my flesh

now i'm running back inside
to barricade the windows and doors
cause i once had a pet tiger (don't ask)
and I don't know how long i'll last

my dead pets are alive
i think they want revenge
my old best friends are zombies
i think they want my flesh
my dead pets are alive
i think they want revenge
my old best friends are zombies
i think they want my flesh

I do not understand what I am doing
what are we doing?
when does it start and stop mattering
because I cannot tell anymore
I feel like if I stumbled into a forest of redwoods
I would never come out
or maybe just never come out the same

I find more intimacy in fingers and toes
than I have ever found in lips
because fingers and toes have so much more responsibility
and my words usually come out wrong when I speak
but my fingers let my words think before they reach
you

Black Bear

I wanted to show you
all the secrets in this town
but you were always hiding
up in your ivory tower

I still know where to find you when you're sad
and I can still trace your feelings like a map back to you

You found a trail
that led deep into the forest
but you were too afraid
to go in by yourself

so I accompanied you there
and I fought off that large bear for you

I wanted to show you
all the secrets in this town
but you ran away
when I came round your house

I still know where to find you when you're scared
and I know all the secrets that you kept from me
but they're safe with me
you're safe with me

a different kind of love song

lately i find myself wanting you
lately i find myself craving youuuurrrr flesh

your face is so pretty I could eat it up, quite literally
all my senses are tingling with this need to feed

I want to tear the flesh from your bones
and I just want to eat all your fingers and toes

don't hide from me baby I know just where to find you
me and my friends have the keenest of senses you know it's true

I want to tear the flesh from your bones
and I just want to eat all your fingers and toes

I've got you now, cornered with nowhere to run
too bad this apocalypse fling is over, we sure had some fun

but baby I want to tear the flesh from your bones
and I just want to eat all your fingers and toes
and the rest of you oh

"this is a new song"

"so fun to make plans when
"can i see you?"s
"i miss you"s
and "come visit me"s
oh how nice it would be
but I don't miss you like i used to
i don't miss you like i should


i don't miss you like i used to
i don't miss you like i should"

p.s.
I am glad that cursive can only really be done by hand. It keeps writing sacred.

it is conor oberst's birthday today

my dreams keep betraying me. or am I betraying my dreams?
when we ignore our desires/dreams or dismiss them as animalistic, and therefore inappropriate, do we betray ourselves? does that even make sense?
I feel like there is so much I could do, but my heart is not in any of it and I think the last three and a half years have really taken it out of me. I do not know what "it" is.
is anyone out there?
hello hello testing one two three hello are you there are you there are youthereareyouthereareyouth-

get better

get better get better get better get better get bettergetbettergetbettergetbettergetbetter

never forget

you're not far from my mind these days
and I find the things I (used to) love are taking a backseat.
the knuckles on your hands remind me of a time when work was honest
and fingers were used for something other than striking keys on a keyboard.

you open doors to find leaves blowing
and old lovers tangled with each other
lying on the bare wood floor of a house you have never seen
I miss the way you couldn't understand eternal love
and trees joining together, looking for some solace,
for some kind of family, in the tangling of their branches,
just the way your past lovers lie tangled on the floor
in a heap of pure, animalistic lust.

you're welcome
you're welcome to stay

you're welcome to come inside and stay a little dryer
to throw all your clothes into my dryer
to curl up in my bed and stay dry

you're welcome to stay and see what the spring has in store
to come with me, i'm going to the store
to find something to make for dinner

you're welcome to sit on my porch, yeah sit right there
as you swing you write, "They're
getting too comfortable already."

you're welcome
you're welcome to walk right out the door
cause my heart doesn't flutter anymore
and your fingers don't know what mine are for
too bad we never made love on this floor

you're welcome

what are your intentions?
what do you mean?
why do you not just say what you mean?
then maybe I could let you know how my mind works and maybe I would say what I mean, or just say what I am feeling.


That sounds so ridiculous.

I have been keeping to myself lately. Here is something.

please do not be scared of the silence
most of the time I just mean to say nice things about your hair or your clothes
but instead I stay quiet
because the knots in my stomach tell me
to
and they have never steered me wrong