#wb:fooffool

[wonhoutboy]

Fall Out of Fashion, Fall Out of Love

› type: poetry album. › status: unfinished. › language: english. › obs.: heavily inspired by fall out boy music. › synopsis:

A collection of thoughts, prayers and ideas: eighteen songs for eighteen years of my empty past.

A/N: hi! welcome to this story that was barely planned, but that I was dying to write. it's basically a space for me to write anything, anytime, whether it makes sense or not :) I prepared several different themes and I already have the chapter titles. it's supposed to mimic the structure of an album, and each chapter, a song (but the text has no song structure, if it makes any sense). it's also heavily inspired by fall out boy and their early albums, which is 90% of the reason why it's in english (my mother language is portuguese). anyways, i'm gonna post each chapter separately and this post is going to be the index.

tracklist...

Intro: No Less Than a 3-word Sentence

Unlike You, These Words Don't Come Easy

ps. this is also being posted here

[wonhoutboy]

Fall Out of Fashion, Fall out Of Love #2

Unlike You, These Words Don't Come Easy

It’s okay, my love, you can retire now; no one wants to see your face and you’re not welcome here. Say goodbye, Desperation, we don’t need your intervention.

I know all your tricks and games, all your motives and your fame; I know what brings you here and what makes you stay. Maybe I’ll let you in for a second, just to hear the rustle of the papers in my desk — an appropriate setup for my own foreseen failure —, or perhaps I should go about my day while you roll your inhuman eyes at me.

Feel free to feel free: we’re so used to each other that I don’t really see you as you, I see you as me.

No day is as intense as the previous was, and every single new occasion brings out the worst in me — or just an accurate depiction of me —, making my insides twist and my head ache. How come my only weapon turned out to be my biggest curse?

I crave an unrelated topic, a flare of inspiration; you’re waiting for my signal, singing what I can’t put out, what is far away from my reach, like you know you got me in your hands.

After the show ends, all of my recollections combust and I pretend I want to do it all over again — at least now I’m better at being miserable, a bit bitter for being good, and a little predisposed to a rough start. I could blame this all on you, but then you’d steal my spotlight; I owe everything to me, from my pants to my low self-esteem to my giant ego. After all, there’s nowhere to go besides home.

And if I had to choose — me or this fucking thing —, I’d be dead by now, either fighting my brain in Heaven or dueling my judgement in Hell. I’d be anywhere necessary; all over my own creation; diving in my sea of lines; crying at the thought of losing; but losing is inevitable when you play a game with no winners.

My priority is wasting time — can’t you see I’m busy now? My mind mimics the state of what I see: unscratched, unwritten, solid and not very exciting, like a white wall built between me — the expectation — and you — the final destination.

Goodbye, Desperation, I’ll see you soon in my next paragraph.

Chapter 2/18 of Fall Out of Fashion, Fall Out of Love

[wonhoutboy]

Fall Out of Fashion, Fall out Of Love #1

Intro: No Less Than a 3-word Sentence

Welcome to my world of boredom, where I lie to sleep in my imagination, trying to figure out the steps to my past, not really knowing what I want for my future.

It would be ideal if my thoughts kept a consistent flow, like water down a hill, but that’s a ridiculous thing to ask when I’m not even 25. There’s still too much room for harm, and if mom doesn't hurry up, I’m gonna take it before her.

If you thought this was going to be fun, I’m sorry to break it to you, but nothing’s fun where nothing’s real — now have a drink and watch it burn, ‘cause the fire is set and so am I. Do you think you can keep it 3-word or more?

Chapter 1/18 of Fall Out of Fashion, Fall Out of Love