the things i should have done ,i am not a good time thief


things i should have.

luckily i have a rare few like justice who will do this for…like my favorite stranger takes care of someone he knows not…rare…if youre an athiest this is the closest thing that an angel will be…they are here looking into your soul..not some mythical winged creature coasting among the cumulus …..and as GBD knows…dragons have wings and they are for bb-q (i dont eat meat lol)

i do that..use things to make myself  laugh and deny. Afterall, I teach self defense, and what a better way to defend ones self than laughing rather than admitting i am shattered. a puzzle unfinished and today my body feels everything that is happening …the storm on the horizon,,,so i make jokes…live in the stories of my stranger ….cry…laugh…play with my lion hunter (my dog ..Rhodisian Ridgeback…yes he was breed to hunt lions…where the term keep the lions at bay comes from)

and do that….and thats all i can do.

Approaching the 2nd set of what I’m sure is one of the greatest shows I’ll ever see in my life. Goddamn you, Leonard Cohen.

Justice H Jamail (@justice4k35)  https://twitter.com/justice4k35/status/317469387567292417

and since justice sillyfacejamail live this for me…this is him.

“Between Orchids & Collar Bones” by The Manichean
2013 Lacerus Records
Filmed at the Alley Theatre in Houston, TX

http://www.twitter.com/TheManichean

http://themanichean.bandcamp.com/track/between-orchids-collar-bones

4 responses to “the things i should have done ,i am not a good time thief

  1. LOL i helped produce that manichean video AND if you are interested enough to see me and my MOM i believe its at exactly 5:55 in….so have a peek if you wish..i forgot i let them do that.psshh

    and lyrics

    You always made such perfect sense through your teeth clenched.
    You would scatter the dishes with nothing but whispers and pretext.

    I always made such the perfect mess with my defense.
    I would shatter the glasses, ashes to ashes to sleep.

    But these nights seem more like motives to me.

    So hand me your ashes, hand me your angels.
    Show me you angles, filthy with whispers
    And wipe all your kisses from my collarbones.
    Please just take me home.

    And she enters the room the way she always does,
    And his pulse flickers the way it always does.
    But as angry with himself as he is, he truly fears expressing his anger
    Lest it make things worse.

    And if he is so angry with her?
    For whatever it was she broke and however it was she tossed it away,
    He becomes so embattled that he cannot stand being in the same room
    With the former beloved; the object of such obsession.

    He is wounded and has lost so much blood that he holds himself back
    From showing reaction of any kind, insofar as it is possible.
    Others, however, can see that he looks desolate, sighs deeply,
    And is close to tears.

    You always wore such the perfect smile, just like orchids,
    But I always measured pain before pleasure
    Just before I fell asleep.

    But these nights seem more like motives to me.

    So hand me your ashes, hand me your angels.
    Show me you angles, filthy with whispers,
    And wipe all your kisses from my collarbones.
    Please just drive me home

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s