Marionette (In Vain)

You leave me in doubt because you can.
You leave me without because you know.
I've got this weakness built in for you,
I guess my weakness shows.

You love me, to leave me.
Know how to deceive me.
Easily fooled, little naive me.
And all I do is let you.

You make me wonder without effort.
Leave me to ponder without pain.
I'm a broken rag doll robbed of you,
I guess I'm a marionette in vain.

You love me, to leave me.
Know how to deceive me.
Easily fooled, little naive me.
And all I do is let you.

I pull the curtains closed again,
shielding myself from you.
You're part of the world, toying with me
I don't have the answers to your quiz
Although I already know all of this

You're part of the world, toying with me
And I let you play
Better be the toy and stay in the game
Than withdrawing and losing, all the same

You love me, to leave me.
Know how to deceive me.
Easily fooled, little naive me.
And all I do is let you.

I Bet You're Busy Living

I curl up inside here, isolated
The world is waiting for me out there
With everything needed to be done
I need to clear things up
Set them straight
Get a hold of myself
of life

I'm staring into the wall
And nothing changes
Waiting for the world to resolve itself
For the trivial to pass
On its own accord

Every second I spend drifting
My conscious nags me for being useless
Every second I spend of use
I drift away, wanting to forget
Wanting to dream

I'm more of me than I ever were
Just completely different
I've lost so many things that made me
And that I'll never retrieve

I lean backwards, up the wall
The world isn't waiting for me out there
Nothing really needs to be done
It's all in my head, just like I dread
Who's gonna mourn my nothing
when I'm dead?

Wishing I wasn't out of smokes
Sitting back, amazed at life
Something as plain as just living

I'm not amazed
I'm not down
I'm not anything

Just forget about it
I don't wanna bother you
I bet you're busy living

Detour

Follow the red light
Everywhere else is white
Everywhere else is blank
Set your only focus right
Follow the red light

Hands on the steering wheel
Slanting just a little
Slipping just a bit
Right hand on the right hand seat
Step on the gas
Keep the brakes ready

Follow the red light
Everywhere else is white
Everywhere else is blank
Set your only focus right
Follow the red light

Stop signs and roadblocks
Anything to make me detour
makes me real
As long as there's asphalt
Gas in the tank and another road
I'll push you away, thought
I'm not ready for you
Yet

Strange, now
I haven't been myself for a long time
Hiding away from everything
That was me
Then a tear in an open book
One not so very special day

Waking up, now
Or am I really falling asleep?
I don't know this clarity
as part of me.
Everywhere else is blank

Follow the red light
Maybe you just saw a glimpse of yourself
Of who you used to be

before it goes away
again

Philosopher

Cry myself to sleep, cry myself awake.
Tears roll in early, tears roll in late.
Still amazed by the world I see,
Still overwhelmed
by you.
And to everyone else I'm the odd character,
No one else cries in the open.
To myself I'm just a philosopher.
I'll always choose wonder over need.
I drowned myself in this icy lake,
Only somewhere, you aided me.
And I cry myself to sleep,
like I cried myself awake
this morning

And You Thought They'd Rather Kill You

And you thought they'd rather kill you
How disappointed you were
when you had to live
with life
When you realized they didn't really care
You made your goal to make everyone love you
In the end they never did
And you thought they'd rather kill you
But none of them really cared
To them you were all the same
And someone they had all once shared

Saving Your Saga

I'm just not one of those happy love stories kinds of people. I don't believe in the happy-go-lucky, the problemless, the easy. I believe one thing above all, that once it's actually right, with love, it should be easy. It should make your life somewhat less heavy to carry, somewhat less difficult to take. But that is a fairytale phenomenon, what we watch in the movies and expect ourselves to find in real life, something that happens once in a million years, something that people pretend is what they've got when in fact they never lived long enough to be able to tell, to be able to treasure.

And is it really beautiful? The stories? Every saga ever told, about the princesses and about the princes and about happily everafter... How was that ever real, how was it ever something desirable, something to strive for? I don't understand.

Call me morbid but there is something so much more enchanting with the miserable stories, with those who fall unhappily in love and are never loved back, those who find a glimpse of passion but lose it to death, those who quarrel in the dark with themselves to avoid being lonely; there's something so much more human and touching in the darkness, in the disloved, in the miserable.
I'll probably keep chasing those miserable feelings, just to feel that I'm not wasting away, that I'm not imprisoned, that I'm not stuck. Anything.

And I'd rather be lonely and miserable than stuck in a merry go round that I couldn't control that would end in happily everafter, with a princess in a tower to which the prince will hold the key... or would I?

Maybe I'm just pretending just as much as that princess is pretending? Maybe I pretend I prefer being miserable so I'll never have to pay the price of being happy, maybe the princess pretends to be happy so that she'll never have to pay the price of being miserable.

But they're one and the same. Two sides of the same coin. Aren't they? Isn't the greatest and happiest of emotions also always the one to come with the greatest of prices, the one to come with the most pain? Nothing comes for free, not in this world.

I'll keep telling my miserable stories, while at least I'm being honest. You stay on your ladder, on your way to saving your saga. To saving your lie.
Pardon the melancholy mood,
POET in the JAR

Everyone's Dark Secrets...

People lie. People keep secrets. I understand parts of it. Everyone does it, everyone has it, everyone has sometimes told a lie, sometimes small, sometimes white, sometimes bigger, sometimes wrong... sometimes right. Everyone has secrets, those dark ones, some stuff they don't wanna think about, they don't wanna share. I'm not saying they should. I never asked of anyone to say things they wanted to keep to themselves, and everyone's dark secrets are their dark secrets to keep.
But... somewhere, there are those lies that were never told to protect anyone, they never were told to make someone safe. Except for maybe the liar that told it... and people keep messing their lives up all by themselves, tip-toeing around every single friend, watching their mouths, afraid that something they might say might give them away or make them go bust. How do you do it? Tangle yourself into complicated patterns, making everything that should be easy as difficult as you can make it, and then go to the utter extremes to protect that difficulty. It's like you want your lives to be complex, like you don't know what to do with it if it wasn't. Maybe that's what it is, too? Maybe you just make up reasons to complicate everything, because if it grew too simple and too easy, you'd be totally lost. You wouldn't know what to fill the emptiness with.

God forbid, you'd actually have to start thinking.

I'm all for secrets. And I believe in some kinds of lies. But not these... not these.
So! No more lying and no more secrets. Anyone asks you something, answer straight. No more complicating things. Make it easy! Life is what you make it to be! And it's no harder than that!
And no more tip-toeing, wondering who will hear if you say this, and if you say that, and if you happen to tell something; just shun it away! If someone tells you a secret, listen, advice, and then forget about it. Clear it out! There's no need why you should keep it in your head when it's already in someone else's. It's enough if one person does the pain.

I blame this sudden optimism on my Beatles playlist.
Greetings,
POET IN THE JAR
Who is seriously considering changing names to
FAERIL in the JAR

Where Are You?

I feel melancholic. Maybe it's the regular Sunday anxiety. Maybe it's that I know I have spent the last week or so spending, when I should be saving, and drinking when I should be studying, longing when I should be forgetting, etcetera. How come some just forget things? And like in seconds, magically, they're moving on. Already on their way some place else in their hearts, in their minds, unaffected by what's behind them... but they aren't, are they? You can't go completely unaffected by everything, you can't just step on people and leave them behind to die without a single sting, a single surge, of something similar to empathy... to pain.
Who knows? Maybe I'm the abnormal one. Maybe I'm too much of a ponderer. Think too much and feel too much and let my anxiety take up too much room. Let you take up too much room. I'm stupid, so damn stupid, for letting you here, for letting you come this close in the first place. I want to shun you out but I can't. And I want to be over you but I can't. And with every happy story I hear I wonder, where are you, to take that shot for me and that bullet, when the only you I ever knew were the one to pull the trigger on me.
POET in the SHOT JAR

Diamond Tear

Just a diamond tear
Just by your fluttering lashes
and I fall for you again
and you're mine again
in my fantasy
where I was never the one
to hurt you

Unless I Remember

I don't cry.
Apply another mascara layer instead.
Pose in another photo
to make another moment last.
I forgot you.
I promise.

Every time I fall
I want to go back again
to all I had forgotten
to all that was safe

I don't cry
Unless I talk to you
Unless I remember

Bye-Bye Love, Naivete

Remembering old times.
Stumbling across a picture
In a folder
That's yours.
A picture of you.
I thought I had forgotten
All of the old pains.
You said you'd been hurt that way before.
And that you never wanted that pain for anyone.
And then you turned that pain on me.
I'm still angry,
and I think I might always be.
Bye-bye Love,
Naivete.

They All Were You

You shunned me away
because I cared for you
You must have been scared of something
Maybe that you knew how I saw you
Maybe that you knew
I saw everything

I forgot you because I cared for you
I must have been scared of you scarring me
And everyone after you I pushed away
Like I was in a nightmare, waking up
and saw they all were you

You were innocent
All I knew of what mattered
You must have beeen good at lying
Maybe you knew that I saw you
Maybe you knew
you were everything

And that was why you broke down
Maybe I made you break

I forgot you because I cared for you
I must have been scared of you scarring me
And everyone after you I pushed away
Like I was in a nightmare, waking up
and saw they all were you

Always I'm placing the blame on myself
That I pushed you over the edge,
made you wreck havoc,
and make my hell
Maybe I was the innocent one
Naive and trying to change for you
Now stuck with a bad conscious belonging to you

Maybe you knew

I forgot you because I cared for you
I must have been scared of you scarring me
And everyone after you I pushed away
Like I was in a nightmare, waking up
and saw they all were you

Who do you think you are, appearing again?

Overanalyze

I overanalyze you, examine your patterns,
every tone of voice and every word,
everything you ever told me that hurt,
everything about you, strangled and absurd

I overanalyze, overinterpret, overlook
all that really mattered

And I'm asking myself all the questions
I laughed at them all for asking
I'm wondering, awake again
gone from a long and numb sleep,
where I was cradled in naivety

I overanalyze us, examine these patterns,
every flinch in the movements you make,
every whisper in all the breaths you take,
everything I thought to be real but was fake

I overanalyze, overinterpret, overlook
all that really mattered

And I'm asking myself all the questions
I laughed at them all for asking
I'm wondering, awake again
gone from a long and numb sleep,
where I was cradled in naivety

What's the point in seeing you,
in answering your every call,
when all I hope for to happen,
don't stand a chance at all
And all awhile it was my own luck
The stones I cast around you in a ring
Makebelieve magic that meant nothing

And I'm asking myself all the questions
I laughed at them all for asking
I'm wondering, awake again
gone from a long and numb sleep,
where I was cradled in naivety

I should maybe thank you for waking me
I grew up and stopped believing in magic
Isn't it better to have no hopes like you
And you'll never be disappointed
And you'll never feel your heart

But maybe I'm overanalyzing
I overinterpret, overlook
all that really mattered

all that never made a difference

Uneven Scar

I like the way you are.
Your uneven scar, on your left shoulder,
that I know from before.
The curls of your hair just perfect
to run my fingers through.
But that's not good enough for you.
I like your freckles.
How you move.
How for those seconds,
you make me special,
and give me those eyes.
But that's unimportant.
That's part of life.
Every time that you've bedded me
I'm good for nothing to you.
I have myself to blame for letting you.
If I told you
I had changed my mind
Would you believe me?

Cross Your Heart

You don't even know what you're doing
With your innocent lies you have made yourself a fool
Cross my heart and carry you to your chest
Cross your heart and know that you will never rest

You fight the world
And everything surrounding you
Your lies, your words
Have lost their value
You tear the world
And everyone surrounding you
You came, you're gone
I thought I knew you

I don't even know what you're doing
And I have known your signs and your patterns all my life
Cross me out and sign me out of your game
Cross me out, you will be lonely all the same

You fight the world
And everything surrounding you
Your lies, your words
Have lost their value
You tear the world
And everyone surrounding you
You came, you're gone
I thought I knew you

_____________________________

I haven't written anything with so much anger in a very long time. And it was a very long time indeed that a song just came to me without struggle to put it down. I know every up and down of this song, every word and every gasp. As if I had listened to it before. And yet it's simple. The way I imagine it is even simpler. Nothing complicated at all. Nothing acoustic like most my other songs. This one is so fast and so loud and so... well. I'll let that be up to you and your imagination. This song is about someone extremely close to me who I love, but who I have serious problems understanding. I have to vent this somehow to her.
It doesn't really matter.
She never reads what I write anyway...
THE POET in the SUNNY JAR
Simply because "frosty" seemed to depressing.

Music, Frankly

Just finished studying, I'm dropping dead any second, can't type or anything! I'm yawning and should really sleep, but I'm too worked up. I could maybe finally take time to put up some new pics at Facebook but I'm too tired to go get the camera... I just feel like... listening to music. Like listening to Frank. There, that's better.
Honestly, relax my dear, it's clear that we are done...
Half of me wants to rage and roar, the other half wants to sleep, and somewhere in between those halves and up, there's a third part of me that is crying. Well to be honest I'm being that third part this moment. I don't know, it's a mixture of everything lately, that I'm crazy tired, that my head feels crammed full of information and of other people's secrets, that I haven't had any space to breathe for the last week... a mixture of everything.
What's the point in making vows, that you're never going to keep?
La, la la, la...
I love Frank Turner.
You made it clear you never cared, you never did pretend...
Everything is making me so tired. I keep doing it, that thing you once told me I did too much, I took everyone's problems on my shoulders, trying to carry it for them, subconsciously. I keep wondering, I keep doubting, I keep being suspicious; I regain my naivete to lose it right away once I got it back. I don't want to be this person, lingering in the dark, and yet I'm here again, and I'm letting out, I'm letting it all run out of me, to run down my cheeks.
What am I to do? It's obvious to me, but she never seems to see.
And I've started to be angry, I'm angry at everyone, I want to yell at the people around me, I feel sad and left out even though I'm always let in. I feel like something has come from nowhere and speared me through, piercing my heart, and now it's bleeding.
It's bleeding in tears.
It's not about the days when everything has turned out right.
No, it's more about the moments when she calls me in the night.
To make her cups of tea and wash the weary worries from her head,
and draw the pain out slowly as I put her into bed.
And I slip this information
Into all our conversations
But she never seems to listen
She never seems to see.
Frank <3
POET in the BLEEDING JAR

Fleeting Thought

I had some deep thought I was going to scrounge up for you guys before going to sleep, but fleeting and deep as these thoughts most usually tend to be, it has fallen out of my mind. So no worries! The deep and the most incredibly philosophical is for some other day, when I'm not as worn.

I've got some good news, or what to call it. The landlord at work has finally resigned himself to the new contract and so my folks can keep the firm and their jobs for at least three more years. This makes it finally possible for our folks to sign with the oil and gas company and in the long run, they'll get a better deal and the business will run better.

Nothing more for now...
POET in the JAR

22 Minutes

I've got 22 minutes,
I have to be on my way.
Flipping off the speaker switch,
muting Frank Turner's voice,
accompanying my loneliness.
Half a page of essay still unwritten,
Half a home of chores undone.
I listen still, unwanted,
And I want no one.
I've got 22 minutes,
soon decreased to 12.
I can't turn off the music,
I'm desperate as hell.
For all that makes me do it,
and gets me through the day
Is all your voices
And all you say.
I've got 22 minutes,
soon decreased to 8.
I stood frozen to your voices
And I knew that hell could wait.

Dealt This Way

You're running, you say to me.
Hinting I should stop.
Hinting I should slow down.
You're running, you tell me.

I'm dealt this way, I tell you.
Pretending to deal with life.
Pretending to deal with pain.
I'm dealt this hand, I tell you.

You're running away, you say.
Assuming it's repressing.
That I will forget.
And I am running.
I was dealt this way.

I am all that you assign me to be.
I'm all that you mark in your words.
Definition is a vague thing.

You're running away
Just the way I ran
Your pace will all be worthless
In the end

Artificial Light

I held you a false mirror.
Showcasing a false me.
And yet you knew all the details,
All that trickled from me.
I have learnt how to mislead you,
while keeping you at close,
I know how to let light through,
while sewing shut my holes.
You knew everything on my surface.
Every wrinkle, and hollow smile.
Nothing of what I was inside.
Nothing of my flare.
Nothing of my crimes.
I held you a false mirror.
You were the artificial light that betrothed it.

Blizzard Jar

I felt like I could have kept driving. Like I should have kept at it, heading sturdily further, heading onward. I could have gone for miles in the storm, barely seeing where I drove, forcing my way through the fog and through the wind and through the snow, stopping only at random gas stations to pick up something to eat and to get warm and to fill up the tank, ignoring how the money on my bank account would soon decrease. I'd just keep driving, radio turned off, or possibly tuned in on some channel barely accessible, low volume. I'd have my cell in my baggy jeans pocket, and if it rang I'd talk some and if anyone asked me where I was I would go, "I'm out driving".
We keep driving into the night... except that today was day, and I was driving on my own, never been so happy to be alone. I need my space. I need to drive through the blizzard, pretending like things are getting to the better, pretending things aren't really here.
That my demons aren't real.
POET in the BLIZZARD JAR