Empty Promises, Empty Blog

Blah, blah, blah. Words that mean nothing to no one but me.

[camp-crystallake]

Favorite horror locations

[kfkfkfkkfc]

[topherchris]

[auldron]

[andrewilynyckyj]

The closest we’ll ever get to a crossover

[bulbasaur-propaganda]

Final Fantasy-styled Pokemon logos by tiedude

[andrewilynyckyj]

RYAN TELLING A PIE FACT IN HIS THEORY VOICE

[neverthere12345]

[orange-icebreaker]

What I Say: I have clinical depression

What People Hear:

[fadefrommyself97]

Orchard Park

Up at dawn and on the highway. Mom asleep against the window, light is breaking through. I hum a song to keep me company. I swear to god I heard you hum the same tune. If you wanted to I think you could've been a singer. I got it from you. Switch on the radio at Dansville. I comb the static signal looking for the news, I found the frequency for sports talk. All the callers lining up to sing the blues. I heard this Sammy kid is supposed to be something special. I hope he is. I hope he is. I spread your ashes in Orchard Park. In the creek beyond the east wall so I know where you are. Come November when I'm screaming at my TV in the dark, you're screaming with me from Orchard Park. Mom and I laugh on the way home. She says she's got a black thumb, all the house plants met their doom but she still tends to your tomatoes. Says the garden's looking healthy she's already seeing blooms. I don't got much to lose, but I keep close to my chest the things I still do. I heard this Sammy kid is supposed to be something special. I hope he is

[fadefrommyself97]

Green like the G Train, Green like Sea Foam

He invited me in; Said his name was Jesse and to take a look around.  I found my coat at the bottom of the closet, dug it out.  The only thing that she left there in the middle of the room, was the couch.  She’d always hated the pattern or the texture, I can’t remember it now.  I relived those nights there breaking down.  I guess I’ll see myself out.  You kept me waiting like the G Train.  I held the door open for hours. I had to walk away.  I rode the A line out to Rockaway.  I’m always drawn to the water.  Walked the streets to the shore. Passed by the murals fading off of the walls.  Still licking the fresh wounds from a hurricane in the fall and I watch them rebuild.  I hummed a Ramone’s song out of key staring off at the skyline over shore break and remembering that this same ocean almost killed me.  South Carolina, seafood green.  On a calendar long enough, all my grief starts to decay.  On a calendar long enough it grows more useless by the day.  And I read that on a calendar long enough, New York will be returned to the sea.  When the water gets high enough, it’ll take back everything. So the subway and the G Train, Our apartment, all our memories.  Come to rest there under water.  All the things that I thought meant the most to me.  I try to picture it, ust the top of the skyline at low tide.  Piercing the surface as the ships try to navigate their lane and there alone and triumphant on the crest of a wave is the couch you gave away…

[fadefrommyself97]

Goodbye, Carolina Blues

Goodbye Carolina, I felt cold and I felt weak.  Took a midnight bus from Asheville, passed like a ghost through Tennessee.  Brushed the northern edge of Blacksburg, like the hair off of your cheeks.  I wish I could fall asleep, half-dead in the window seat; awake for weeks.  Good morning Manhattan, stopped at Port Authority.  I’ll take a train under the river; Ride the A out to the G.  And I’ll walk along your narrow streets with a dollar cup of coffee, letting it stain my teeth, two sugars, a drop of cream; bittersweet.  God damn, I missed you Brooklyn.  Caught my breath here on your streets.  I left my winter coat in Charlotte and I’m cursing at the breeze.  I’m hiding out from early March, read the sign hung in our lobby.  Elevator broke last week; I walk the stairs to 403.  I don’t blame you for changing the locks.  I think I’d probably do the same if it were me.  I’m gathering up the courage to knock, not sure what I’m looking for.  I don’t know what I want. I don’t want anything.  I guess I don’t want anything.  Some college student answers and my heart crash-lands on the floor.  He says he sublet this place last month, he never heard of me before.  He sees me there collapsing and he opens up the door. It’s all new furniture; I barely recognize it anymore.  He says, “I’m sorry, man. I wish that I knew more.  I’m not sure exactly what you’re looking for. But no Dianne, no, she don’t live here anymore.  Dianne don’t live here anymore.”

[fadefrommyself97]

‘67 Cherry Red

Same fucking payphone, I’m calling north to Mom to ask what year the Mustang is.  And when she answers, I hear your voice, Dad.  I’m coming home soon.  Could I borrow cash to square some debts?  I know I sound desperate but I swear to god Ma’ I’ll pay you back.  I bought myself a burner, programmed your number in.  Took an ad in the paper.  Are there grease stains on your skin? Do the songs of young love hum like an engine in your head?  I got what you need.  ‘67 Cherry Red. Never been a man’s man,  I ‘aint much for cars and I’m sick of fate.  I’m done with praying but if you hear me Dad, I’ll keep her safe. I keep having flashbacks.  I see you at dusk in the summer, in the driveway.  Covered in engine grease, a look in your eye I can’t explain.  This guy named Roger calls.  Says he used to have that car at twenty three.  Last year his wife passed on, he’s got memories of love in the backseat. He takes the wheel and grins.  He gets that same look in his eye you always did.  He can’t afford what I want for it.  Says its nice to see a car like this again.  But I know he’ll love her the way that you did and I just need enough scratch to buy a bus ticket, mail some to the Thunderbird and pay my mom back. 

[fadefrommyself97]

Carolina Coast

I woke up to shorebirds. I must be close to the sea. I walked through the parking lot; felt the pavement burning my bare feet. I stumble out eastward; pushed my way through the reeds. I woke up to shorebirds. I dreamed about drowning at sea. I’m staring out at nothing. Carolina coast. I’ll wade through the shallows. It feels like I’m chasing your ghost. I think about drowning. I’d lay down and let go. I’ll see you in heaven, everyone that left me alone. I reached in my pocket to pull out a light. Forgot I threw out my smokes weeks ago. I can’t get it right, but I found your lilies. They’re dead and they’re dry. I’ll plant them here seaside. I’ll pray they come back to life. You and I. On the horizon, there’s a boat fighting tide. All rust stained and pale blue, it’s nearing the end of its life. But somehow it keeps floating, all banged up but alive. And I guess I feel better then. I won’t lay down and die. I’m not coming home tonight without Dianne by my side.

[fadefrommyself97]

You 'Aint No Saint

When I met you we were young and like gasoline to matches, waking up drunk, sleeping through your early classes. I grew up and grew dull and you say you wished I hadn’t.  Well I’m drunk again and you’re guilty like you’re Irish catholic.  You ain’t no saint, I ain’t one either. Guess that’s why I’m lying here; cause I know that I’m banged up.  I got bruises I can’t place, oh I’ve been coughing out blood and I know that I’m banged up.  I got bruises I can’t place, oh I’ve been coughing out blood.  I’ve got a gut full of ulcers they’re gonna burn out like dead stars, turn to dust.  If you’re coming here alone then there’s nowhere else to go.  So when I walk in man, they know I’m alone.  Dig your anchors in my bones, keep your breathing soft and slow. It’s freezing, I made a blanket from my coat. So I’m searching the car for my dad’s old Bills hat, passed down in 93.  It never got far from me, he moved to the island from upstate and he’d spend Sunday watching the game with me explaining everything, we’d watch Jim Kelly lead the way.  And if my dad was here I wonder what he’d say, if my dad was here I wonder if he’d even recognize me.  I’m fucking begging.

[fadefrommyself97]

Get Me Out Of Here Alive

I’m starting to believe that there’s a god and he hates me. I’m starting to believe that my mom lied about grace and divinity, and it hurts like a sunburn; wakes me up from deep sleep. Parked on the street out in front of St. Mary’s. I watched people leave from the mass in the evening. With my window down, I can still hear the gospel choir singing. I stayed in the car and the light from the stained-glass window didn’t reach me. The cicadas are deafening; their voices caught in the breeze. You’re not walking next to me. All alone is all I’ll ever be. You’re not walking next to me. I’m getting by. Only faith I had left was a lie. The leeches died. It turns out my blood was poison the whole time. If someone bombed heaven, the sky would look like it did tonight, all fractured and outlines. Get me out of here alive.

[fadefrommyself97]

The Thunderbird Inn

People are starting to tear down their Christmas lights. It never got cold here but they know that the season’s died. I’ve been sleeping in a motel off 95. I don’t really mind it much. The clerk at the desk is nice. He pours me a coffee and asks me if it’s been a long night. I found a bar that’s just outside the township line. I go there most every night. I drank my last paycheck dry and outside, a homeless man asks me for change and I look him straight in his eyes. He stops to apologize. Tells me god’s got a plan for me and that it’ll be alright. I didn’t know that I looked that pathetic. The owner’s been giving me a break on my rent this week. He says that I’m good for it. I joke how I’m probably but I came up short again and nobody’s laughing. I’ll sneak out at 2 am. I can’t do it honestly. I know I’m a coward and I feel a bad night coming. So, pour me another drink for a daughter I’ll never meet, a wife who don’t love me and this cold cup of coffee. Pour me another drink and I’ll count my blessings. I’ve got a half tank of gas left and this bottle ain’t empty.