You’re off to save the world again,
Flying high, faster than a speeding bullet
To stop the bad guys from taking over,
To save the citizens from peril.
They see you as indestructible,
They see you as so powerful,
But they’ll never see you
The way that I do.
You’re off to risk your life again,
Being superhuman, defying science
To stop the world from falling apart,
To give the people a bit of hope.
They see you as a symbol,
They see you as their hero,
But they’ll never see you
The way that I do.
For all your indestructibility,
I see your vulnerability.
For all your power,
I see your weakness.
For all your symbolism,
I see your reality.
For all your heroics,
I see your mistakes.
For all your Super,
I see the Man.
You save my world
By defeating evil.
You save me
By letting me know and save you.

To Superman,
Love,
Lois

This pure, uncolored illumination
that comes only from one source
and cannot ever be artificially made;
this unparalleled beautifully blinding light,
whose source, were you to cast your eyes upon Its face,
would take all of you and consume you
and leave you uncaring of your fate,
as long as you are allowed to be consumed forever.
This animated beam.
How can you dare –
for I know full well you do –
to cover this Light,
to so subvert It
that It is unrecognizable
except by the barest hint of Its old self?
And then again, one must question,
is it truly possible to so disguise and corrupt such a holy and pure thing?
In other words, perhaps your “light” –
for it is a pitiful excuse for the actual thing –
is merely artificial and lacking any potential for power at all,
for goodness knows, if it has power,
it does nothing with it.
I think,
the Light, the only true one,
had you so frightened when you first saw It,
that you knew you had to have It,
to become Its,
but you didn’t want to give all,
so you placed a part of It in a box;
a part of It behind a shade,
so that It wouldn’t overpower you.
But, returning to my ‘fore thoughts,
perhaps in attempting to shave some off,
you lost the whole,
or really, never had it because you wouldn’t accept it.
So really, your fake “light”
is merely an illusion.
The sad thing is that with it,
you accomplish a doubly detrimental purpose:
you drive those who truly seek It
away from the true Light,
and you draw those who know not
to your hollow, artificial light.
When will you foolish cowards learn
that the Light isn’t comfortable?

The Light of Stained Glass Windows

She looks at her fingertips in rapt amazement. She turns her hands palm down, and studies them. So small, but so full of "manipulative" power. She's thinking of how you would move, how your muscles would clench, how your body would tighten. She gave you hints on how to overcome this power, telling you to just relax, but you replied, "I can't." She thrilled at that statement. She loved how you loved it, this light, light touch that could make you writhe. As your breath went ragged, so did hers. As your muscles tensed, she trembled.
She remembers how both of you discovered your hands, gently running fingers over palms, fingertips, holding gently, then letting go to explore further. It was as though you had never seen hands before, like this was a new discovery. She loved it.
She loved your arms and your chest, the tight hardness of them, like a rock covered in skin and shirt. This was how a man should be, she thought. This was the desired contrast, softness against hardness.
When you looked up at her, she knew what you wanted, but she hesitated, whether teasingly, or simple hesitancy, she doesn't know. When you nibbled her fingers, she couldn't contain the soft outlet of breath. And when she finally bent over your face to meet your lips, she wanted to bury her hands in your hair and have you hold her forever.

Hmm...if life were a runway, I'd walk down it oblivious to all the flashing cameras, then shock the judges by pulling all my friends up there with me. Cuz what would I be without them?

*coughs* All my chain-messaging friends: leave now, or be offended, unless, of course, you're not easily offended. With that, I shall commence my rant.

Mommy,
Daddy did something to me.
He made me loose my virginity,
he came into my room,
without knocking on the door,
he picked me up and threw me on the
floor.

He pulled down my undies,
he ripped open my shirt,
he pushed his thing in so hard that it
hurt.

But that wasn't all,
that wasn't the end,
he started to hit me,
and that's just where it begins.

He beat me so bad that I started to
cry,
Oh tell me LORD why I didn't die!

When he was done,
he walked out the door,
he didn't even pick me from off the
floor

this girl died two years later from a std. she haunts all those who dont pass this message on. at 2:30 am she will personally kill you. if u repost this bullitien she will only cry to you in your dream. please for your sake, repost, for hers as well. repost as,
fuck all dads like this

Things like that really tick me off. Maybe this chic begain as a real person. Maybe she was a symbol. But I tell you what, she's not gonna write a nice little A-B scheme poem about it. And "she haunts all those who dont pass this message on"? I'm sure these people meant well, but there are far better ways to get people to become aware to incestual (yes, I made that one up) rape than sending out a bulletin and telling people to repost it or they'll be haunted. Personally, and maybe I'm just a bit easily offended on the subject, I think it's mocking the real problem that exists. You want a poem about real sexual abuse from a parent? I can easily procure one; the question is, will you read it?

*yawn* Wow, I love multi-tasking. Listening to my LAUNCHCast, using MSN instant messenger to talk to V-Man, and writing a diary. Presently I'm listening to Daft Punk, and they sound pretty good so far. I'm in school too, so even more kudos. Tool now, I didn't get to ratr the other song. Grr. Oh well.

*yawn* I was bored...and now, if you're bored, I will give you this little nugget of amusement:
http://www.crush007.com/v2/predict/1162675407fzp

Time seemed to slow as she watched this boy with his careful movements. It was very cold weather, and yet she stood there, watching him meticulously put her wristband on, perfectly straight. She thought "I'm cared for." And then time sped back up and she was off for a night on the fair.

Fairs are not good for the emotional health of the reluctantly single.

Grr-Arg. I hate it when good things make me sad. I really do. And I hate it when I should be happy, yet I want to cry. How do I get myself into these little stony crevices?

We could you know. We'll have to tone it down a wee bit in public, I wouldn't want to be the subject of so much green gas. *sigh* I don't like it when you leave all weekend. It's normally harder to call you. And calling's all I've got. Until next weekend. But I live in fear that it'll fall through and my excitement will go pfffttt, just like that. Oh well. I'll see you someday, my man-lovely bassist.

Artist: Blue October Lyrics
Song: Calling You Lyrics

MP3 Downloads

Click here to send Blue October polyphonic ringtone to your cell phone.
Theres something that i cant quite explain
i'm so in love with you
you'll never take that away

and if i said a hundred times before
expect a thousand more
you never take that away

well expect me to be
calling you to see
if you're ok when i'm not around
asking if you love me
i love the way you make it sound
calling you to see
do i try too hard to make you smile
to make a smile

well i will keep calling you to see
if you're sleepin are you dreamin and
if you're dreamin are you dreamin of me
i cant believe
you actually picked...me

i thought that the world had lost its sway
(its so hard sometimes)
then i fell in love with you
(then came you)
and you took that away
(its not so difficult, the world is not so difficult)
you take away the old
show me the new
and i feel like i can fly
when i stand next to you
so what if I'm on this phone
a hundred miles from home
i take the words you gave
and send them back to you

i only want to see
if you're ok when i'm not around
asking if you love me
i love the way you make it sound
calling you to see
do i try too hard to make you smile
to make a smile

i will keep calling you to see
if you're sleepin are you dreamin and
if you're dreamin are you dreamin of me
i cant believe
you actually picked...me

well i will keep calling you to see
if you're sleepin are you dreamin and
if you're dreamin are you dreamin of me
i cant believe
you actually picked...me

i will keep calling you to see
if you're sleepin are you dreamin and
if you're dreamin are you dreamin of me
i cant believe
you actually picked...me

Yay! Another us song.

Out again,
Another late night.
It always is,
But you never fight.
You know exactly where I go,
You know exactly what I do,
But yet you never stop me
As I breeze right by you.

Why do I do this
To the one who loves me most?
Why do I cause such pain
Chasing down these ghosts?

I cannot stand your gaze,
So sad and full of love,
So the moment I get home, I’m gone,
Right past you I will shove.
I know that this will hurt me,
It’s already started to,
But even when it hurts so bad,
I don’t want to go back to you.

Why do I do this
To the one who loves me most?
Why do I cause such pain
Chasing down these ghosts?

Sometimes I wish you’d stop me,
Forbid me to leave this place.
But you never do, you just sit there
With this sad, sad look on your face.
I know how bad this hurts you,
I know it makes you cry,
But sometimes I feel
Like if I stopped, I’d die.

Why do I do this
To the one who loves me most?
Why do I cause such pain
Chasing down these ghosts?

One day when I was leaving,
You just held out your hand.
This very simple motion,
I almost didn’t understand.
I hesitated a moment,
Then rushed to hold you tight.
I sobbed until I could no more,
But I found peace that night.

Safe within your arms I’ll stay,
Cuz you’re the one who loves me most.
Never again will I cause pain this way:
I’ve laid to rest my ghosts.

Cheating
Written by [Your Favorite Stranger]

***Note***: I didn't write this about me cheating on a hysical person, I wrote this about "cheating" on my Dad, my God. It can be used for whatever you'd like to use it for, but yeah, I'm not and never will be a cheater.

She breathed in deep, then sighed, content. She smelled him, felt the heat of him so close. She lay her head on his chest, and just listened to his heart beat, the heart that was so full of love for her. He held her close, so close, like he needed her, like he wanted to keep her safe, yet needed her to save him. He lifted a hand and slowly ran his fingers through her hair.
The feeling was one she could never describe, even if she had God's vocabulary. She tightened her arms around him, and smiled against his chest.
The he began to sing, softly, oh so softly, but she could hear.

"If I lay here,
If I just lay here,
Would you lay with me and we'll forget the world."

Noise. What noise? There was no noise. Which was odd, because we were at a concert. There should have been noise. But there was only him. Only his eyes. Only his face. Only that silence that's so beautiful. And that was ok. Because his eyes made all the noise I wanted.

The shoes.
It didn't even take her a second to figure out what they were, who's they were, and what this meant to her.
They were the shoes, the ugliest, yet most interesting shoes she'd ever seen. They belonged to him, the person who was most special to her in the world, discluding relatives. And it meant that he had done something.
Shaking, she swiftly bent over, and sucked in a breath.

 There was blood on the shoes.

The sun was shining that unique gold color it shines when setting, and the shadows it was casting were magnificent. But the girl, normally in tune with shadows, and sunsets, and anything that would make a good picture, wasn’t paying much attention. She only noticed the sun when it trickled through his hair, or outlined him brightly. The him in question was slightly taller than her, with longish brown hair that always fell perfectly around his face and turned up at the ends. His eyes were open, not necessarily large, but earnest. His smile wasn’t exactly symmetrical, but she loved the way one side went up slightly farther than the other. The were sitting, turned toward each other, on a bench by the river. They were close, but not unbearably close, just a tickle of almost- touch between them. The air was cool, like it always is in fall, but it wasn’t so cold that they needed heavy jackets. He wore his standard camo shorts, and an brown and green OBEY hoodie, while she dressed in dark jeans and an over-large, faded blue hoodie. They were about as aware of the world as it was of them, which was just a brief acknowledgment of existence in busy minds. They would lean forward during a particularly intense part of the conversation, then seem to catch themselves and lean back out. If anyone would’ve had the time to stop and observe them, they would have noticed that the conversation could go from apparently serious to laughter in a matter of words. But the aura from these two was laid back, mellow, content. It’s probably better that no one had time to watch them. If they had, they would’ve been jealous.

You know what's sooooo cool?

"and i know this probably ain't much of a surprise, but i seriously have though about it and i like you. deeply. not the shallow kind just about looks but the deep kind; i like the person you are. just the way you think and speak, they way you live your life, just...well..you. they all make me feel apecial when i am around you and it took time for me to say it because i wanted to make sure i meant it. and i do.

OoO, does Jaime feel special or what? I'll answer for you: Jaime feels special.