Lights out, blankets up. Quiet...all but the faint words of silky sounding songs (nice use of alliteration, thank you).
Makes me want to throw my head back and tap my foot to the soul of music's best. The night grows dark and silent.
Dreams wait to be born, but my mind will not retire from its 90 mile per hour pace. The fan stirs a chill, but I am warm, tangled in these lonely sheets. I wonder what happens when hearts grow cold? When a house no longer feels like a home, all that's left is memory..when hearts grow cold. It must be a terrible feeling to be all alone, hardened to a life once filled with love and laughter. Hmm. sad. Moving on. I turn to the subject of the way it is and the way is was and the way it could be. I would love to have a time machine...just to be able to take a ride through the times I've heard of but don't really understand. Where would I begin? Would I start from the beginning and go to the end of days, or would I be crazy and start with desert and end with an appetizer of unlevened bread on the road to Damascus? I think I'd like to be a hippie first-yes. I would begin my trip (no pun intended) by stepping into a flowy dress covered in flowers, which would mirror the ones linked together in my mane of hair. I would spend my afternoon twirling around like an idiot who loves life with the biggest smile on my face you have ever seen in your life. I would wear little round tinted sunglasses and my feet would be bare and oh my gosh, filthier than the next guy's 'stache. To quench the inevitable pangs of hunger, I would head over to my groovy van for something special, I'm sure. The next day, I would wake to find myself surrounded by men in boater hats and women in bustles staring at me and saying things like, "A ghastly creature is she who finds herself passed out wearing nothing more than a bedgown of sorts-brazen hussie!" Thus, we enter the early days of the 20th century-I should change from my sweet mother of an outfit into something a bit less free, more lady like-that is, only if I wish to fit in with my refined company. (Pause: what am I doing? 1 A.M. and I am writing this ridiculous mantage of words that will only make me look as if I have no life...don't judge me for my inability to sleep before the sun decides to wake up again-and I wonder why...never mind, let's continue).
Some how I end up in a verbal battle with some priss pot and though I win, unmatched, my opponent feels the need to punch me in the nose, causing me to fall into a concussion. I come to a few hours later in some room filled with neon lights and what appears to be...purple rain? Did I know that was possible? Welcome to the 80's my friend, where spandex and frizz rule the school. Oh yes. My day is complete with puff paint art and I think I just saw my name written across the football field by the tires of Kevin Bacon's firebird-he's not my type, but that was pretty radical.
Hello my name is Megan and I am a tard. A tard who is now going to bed, hopefully to wake up somewhere besides this blasted apartment (which would require my getting up and involving myself in another inspiring day of higher education).
Makes me want to throw my head back and tap my foot to the soul of music's best. The night grows dark and silent.
Dreams wait to be born, but my mind will not retire from its 90 mile per hour pace. The fan stirs a chill, but I am warm, tangled in these lonely sheets. I wonder what happens when hearts grow cold? When a house no longer feels like a home, all that's left is memory..when hearts grow cold. It must be a terrible feeling to be all alone, hardened to a life once filled with love and laughter. Hmm. sad. Moving on. I turn to the subject of the way it is and the way is was and the way it could be. I would love to have a time machine...just to be able to take a ride through the times I've heard of but don't really understand. Where would I begin? Would I start from the beginning and go to the end of days, or would I be crazy and start with desert and end with an appetizer of unlevened bread on the road to Damascus? I think I'd like to be a hippie first-yes. I would begin my trip (no pun intended) by stepping into a flowy dress covered in flowers, which would mirror the ones linked together in my mane of hair. I would spend my afternoon twirling around like an idiot who loves life with the biggest smile on my face you have ever seen in your life. I would wear little round tinted sunglasses and my feet would be bare and oh my gosh, filthier than the next guy's 'stache. To quench the inevitable pangs of hunger, I would head over to my groovy van for something special, I'm sure. The next day, I would wake to find myself surrounded by men in boater hats and women in bustles staring at me and saying things like, "A ghastly creature is she who finds herself passed out wearing nothing more than a bedgown of sorts-brazen hussie!" Thus, we enter the early days of the 20th century-I should change from my sweet mother of an outfit into something a bit less free, more lady like-that is, only if I wish to fit in with my refined company. (Pause: what am I doing? 1 A.M. and I am writing this ridiculous mantage of words that will only make me look as if I have no life...don't judge me for my inability to sleep before the sun decides to wake up again-and I wonder why...never mind, let's continue).
Some how I end up in a verbal battle with some priss pot and though I win, unmatched, my opponent feels the need to punch me in the nose, causing me to fall into a concussion. I come to a few hours later in some room filled with neon lights and what appears to be...purple rain? Did I know that was possible? Welcome to the 80's my friend, where spandex and frizz rule the school. Oh yes. My day is complete with puff paint art and I think I just saw my name written across the football field by the tires of Kevin Bacon's firebird-he's not my type, but that was pretty radical.
Hello my name is Megan and I am a tard. A tard who is now going to bed, hopefully to wake up somewhere besides this blasted apartment (which would require my getting up and involving myself in another inspiring day of higher education).
posted by bargame at 10:38 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home