#scarecrow jones

[scarecrowjones]

Overcast

Keeping it together was hard enough. Then he showed up.

Something about him has her insides screaming to run, and to run far. Now, Krysta's no stranger to the bizarre, you know?, what with her 'witch' of a grandmother and all, but... something about this guy has her hair standing on end. From the hungry look in his dark eyes to his uncanny stillness, there's just something so predatory about Adrian.

And then, of course, he's not the only thing taking up real-estate in her mind -oh no, no, sir, not by a country-mile. From helping her mother -with whom she has a strained relationship-tend to a practical army of siblings, to a new school of culture barriers, to the mysterious pattern of violent murders that seem to be getting closer, there's a million things going on and only 23.93 hours in a day.

And that's not even getting into the shit in her head.

If things keep piling up --and if she's not careful about it-- Krysta just might wind up in the hospital again...

Working Title: Overcast Keeping it together was hard enough. Then he showed up. Something about him has her insides screaming to

[toastling]

tastes like watermelon

hey there little snowflake, how’s it feel to be so different? as kids we’re taught we’re each unique, equal but still separate is it all that it’s cracked up to be, is your glacier still sufficient? drifting in the silent air, what’s it like from your perspective? watch the ice, it ebbs and flows, but changes oh-so-slowly, but as circumstances inclement and heat rises below you, the cracks to be are born within and it’s hard not to feel lonely now you slide off back into the sea, and your birthplace will absorb you

we say the things we want to feel and hope that life will flow according, we’re all shaped how we wish we weren’t but we’re real good at contorting or so we like to tell ourselves, but when the cameras aren’t recording and we’re alone with all our thoughts we’re not who we purported are we victims of our circumstance or creatures of discomfort? what’s the answer to the question nature versus nurture? is there solace to be found in truth we think assertive? or is this dreaming all we have, be it suicide or murder?

i know what this might mean to you, but if it’s all the same to me, what you see as naked truth might just be personal belief what is blue to the freshly sighted? is it fair if he feels frightened? if there’s no war, will you incite it? will you hear or choose to fight it? your experience whispers certainty, but it tastes like watermelon to me

what is it that sets us apart, distinct from one another? we all have our own arguments, we all fear one rebuttal but why are you who you believe, why was i not born my brother? and why are some so well-adjusted, why are some always in trouble? we scramble for the answers from the mess that we were left with, draw water from the stones we find and desperately ingest it, when faced with hunger, horror true, contrive some sort of lesson, but has anybody else thought yet how fucked up that this test is? what is there to learn from life and how hard must we still study? we search the skies, we scale the peaks, until our fingers bloody if we’re the stones from which we squeeze the answers when we’re thirsty, how do we know when we should ease, what if we squeeze to bursting? all we have to judge each other are our own struggled stories, frantic pages scribbled on while our forest homes were burning from jungles green into concrete, the sanctified and holy, the fire burns inside us now but we’re still not close to knowing

i know how this might feel to you, but if it’s all the same to me, what you think is blanket truth might be obscuring what you see if he feels pink but is delighted, if she’s not you when you had tried it, will you accept or choose to fight it? the war you waged is still inside you you say, “a labored fruit is not as sweet”, but it still tastes like watermelon to me

[scarecrow-jones]

unpleasant things in puppet strings

wake up to a mind in ruin seeking for some blithe renewal struggle vainly in this cause, fail again and then take pause looking back at your sad history, how you got here's no big mystery you were always meant to fail, meant to sputter and impale upon the peaks of lesser mountains 'cause your life is all about them who are you to be a person? sit there still and let it worsen you were born ensnared in patterns, left to function with but tatters given not the tools to thrive, now you struggle to survive

so defined by your emotions, thrashed about like boats on oceans lost control of where you're going, sunken by a lack of knowing ending up in foreign lands, lost, reclaimed by foreign sands, and sunken deep into the earth, losing sight of what you're worth you'd think you'd have best intentions, but your motives left unquestioned left you open unexpected to the whims of uncorrected wants you never knew you harbored, violence taught to sons and daughters through destruction on repeat of all you thought could set you free

so parents hollow out your children, worry not for what's within them they've no need for filled out spaces, not when you still need more places to store all your expectations, waving off with explanations how it is you know what's best: starting off their lives with less after all it's how you lived, and look at you and all you did and aren't you now just so successful? aren't you now a quiet rest owed? live as if they're there to serve you, their success is not your purview you exist for you alone, they're just gilding on your throne

monarchs in suburban castles unprepared for modern hassles, sabotaged from infant cradle now to find themselves unable to contend with what's created, prior fears left unabated handed down like picket fences, white and clean and unprepentent bounded hands alive with jokers forced to play and at once broker meaning from the scrambled pieces, loose change plundered from the creases then exchanged in hope for mercy, rotted by a social scurvy and left bleeding on the floor until they've learned to try no more

what you want and what you need will make you ache and make you bleed because the effort to obtain them will always outweigh the gains when you must give up what you do know for the burden of the unknown hoping blindly that it's worth it, hoping that you're not just worthless it's the road that all must travel, left unpaved with stony gravel digging deep into your feet and shredding flesh from both your knees and breaking bones and false intentions, stripping from you all pretention purifying all you know and laying bare for you your soul

so heed my words my hollow children, sip some wine and have your fill then go reclaim your emptied spaces, go find for yourself new places to store all your expectations, to sit and tend your abrasions you will always know what's best for you and yours and what is left for this is your life to be lived and it should go as you see fit in spite of all you'll find so stressful, you may end up yet successful learn to live a life made for you, care for what is left of your youth, soothe the child that cries alone and turn your heart into your home

[toastling]

To:

To: You You know who you are, But maybe I don't, and maybe I never did To: The one I have words to say, But I know that you don't, and I know that you never did

You never were one for such frivolous things Legend among legends, You thought a lot, I thought not what it brings These things, Our mortality, humanity, questioned morality, Beyond calculation, not part of the legacy

To: A person You know that you are, But it seems that they don't, or perhaps they always did To: My friend We put on the mask, But I can see through, just like you always did

You never were one to sing war or sing guns Legend among legends, You cursed a lot but cursed not the outcome Such things, Emotionality, some truth not reality, Beyond your horizon, moon rises surreality

You never were one to fear the darkness that came, Mortal among mortals, They saw through the charade, I repeat the refrain Your things, Immortality, humanity, growing insanity Never part of the plan, but maybe it was, to...

[scarecrow-jones]

if we are all just drops in the river, just how many drops do you think that there are? and if we all comprise this old river's flow then who all among us decides where it goes?

[toastling]

Starting a new blog for poetry and lyrics. Mostly lyrics. Don't know how often it'll see activity, but I'll reblog it here as I contribute to the project. I have an idea.

[scarecrow-jones]

see you at my seance!

dearly beloved we are gathered today to say our goodbyes to fucks gone away

fuck!

(verse 1)

hey there my man its been quite a while, so tell me my dude, just how have you been? i'm sorry i vanished into thin air like that man but i swear to god it'll happen again

you see i've been dead inside quite a while, my whole life i think, but that's fine i suppose so anyway here's something that might make you smile, i'm holding a seance and channeling my ghost (and you're invited!)

(verse 2)

my doctor once told me im far too committed to patterns of thought that paint pictures of graves but i thought that maybe that's something to leverage so i looked it up and i learned something strange

the dead are not gone they're just poorly connected but cut through the static and look past the screams and the veil draped between us isn't thick as expected just know what you're doing or you'll dial palpatine (looking at you, jj!)

(chorus 1)

so im holding a seance for dreams long forgotten, texting the ghost of only sons begotten, number not found? well i guess that's all nonsense, now have a stirring rendition by sarah maclachlan of all of the reasons my soul has departed, gone, left the building, my body black-hearted, watching the rot overcome what i started, if this rhyme's left unfinished would anyone care?

(verse 3)

see i've been in-and-out the zone of the ended, fucked out my mind with chronic depression, but all that's behind me after this latest session i got home from work and i got the impression i should-

well it's all metaphorical, there's no need to fear, despite all my wailing i'll still be here next year, so please do not worry if i should disappear, i just got prescribed a hobby and i chose spiritualism

(ghosts just seemed neat at the time, i don't fucking know!)

(chorus 2)

so dont take it literal, my heart will go on - fuck wait a minute that was celine dion well whatever the case i feel like a dead dog, can sarah still eulogize me in a 3 minute spot? because there's too many reasons that my soul's departed, gone, left the building, no grieving imparted, did you even notice that I had un-started? why sing a song that won't be well-regarded?

(chorus 3)

now im holding a seance for dreams long forgotten, texting the ghosts of lonely sons begotten, they're nicer than lifers when you're at rock bottom, sleep in the arms of an angel by sarah maclachlan it's no great surprise my soul is departed, we all saw it coming, just not when it started, from birth until death i tried my damn hardest, but the twist of the story is i've been dead all along

(outro)

i just think that if ghosts are real, they might need a friend they were people too once, so we should speak to them the same i'm half-there already so i don't much fear the end, i just think that i'd vibe with with the phantom's pain you know? if it's all the same to you.

[scarecrow-jones]

roadmap

1: a heart stuck on repeat 2: swatting at the wisps of smoke when the fire is low 3: okay thats enough of that 4: its mayonnaise, baby! (a routine malaise) 5: shiver 6: we live in a society? suite! (joker/choker/toker) 7: a broken pearl string necklace 8: to: 9: silly rabbit, im always joking, except for the times when im not 10: artache 11: [s]bitter[/s] blissful oblivion 12: supervalid black hole by muse 13: marigold ??? 1: see you at my seance! ??? 2: tastes like watermelon