:)))
.
I remember the beginning.
When there were more good days then bad.
With you telling me I’m everything and me feeling like everything else is nothing.
All that falling asleep and waking up together. Thinking we finally got it right.
And I remember all those long nights when my days revolved around you.
Being on the road and between the sheets. SEX. Or love, I don’t know. But the break up bench didn’t break us. And I’m hoping you’ll still call when you’re 90.
Popcorn and Alien movies. But the real demons were in our heads.
Nights of wine and headache. Lacking sleep and future visions.
But we were only opening up to shut down.
And when the rush from the cotton candy wore off I wished we’d never gotten this close. Cause maybe then we’d still be beautiful to one another.
I saw a dead white dove in the trash,
and I thought ”what horrible troubles have you gotten yourself into to end up here?”
And then I remember the days that followed the good days.
Itchy skin and forgetting how to breath.
You kissing pretty girls. Me fetching my tangible stuff.
Leaving a toothbrush behind to remind you that I’m gone.
Leaving, knowing that one third of myself is left with you.
Wanting to scream at you but you’re too sad and kind.
Is this how bad it feels to feel?
There was a girl in New York who wanted to commit the most beautiful suicide.
She lit up the entire room with candles and after swallowing pills she laid down in her bed to wait for her face to take on the color of her white dress, the color of innocent and peace.
But the pills made her sick, so she ran into the bathroom and died with her head on the toilet seat.
And you and I did just that.
I remember how we ended without a beginning.
How the bad days tainted the good days until I no longer remember how the good days felt.
#INSTAGIRLZ
There is a silence that comes after laughter,
and sometimes the noise is not at all loud.
When the numbness of faded memories hit,
it turns out they get tainted over time.
And the people we used to dance with,
are only reminders of a life that should never be lived again.
Pretty girls, famous smiles, big city lives,
and Ha. Ha. Ha. Watch them try, we do it better than them anyways.
Big spenders, sexual offenders,
Neon lights, yellow cabs, 3am monologs and drunk confessions.
I was your best friend and you cried when I told you I wanted out.
You tried drugs, lost your virginity for fame,
and when your friend got raped at the party you just had another drink.
I was your best friend and you cried when I told you I wanted out.
The gold dress, jealousy and distress, fake personalities but original bags. WHO CARES.
Altering apps and continuously counting and comparing empty compliments and confirmation. Likes and the things that reinforce your meaningless importance. WHO CARES.
You’re so pretty, but you’re so self absorbed.
Your nose bled and you fucked the dealer,
Hungover and shaking you watched the blood running down your friends leg and you never asked. Lets talk about red lipstick instead.
”Hiiya babes, you feel like shit but look hot-but-not-hotter-than-me for my picture please?”
Train rides and hollow conversations,
and up to this day I am the only one who ever known you.
You cried when I told you I wanted out,
and now I see you online, counting someone else's money pretending to be living your life.
----
F.E.W
You got yourself a bad habit.
I jump into the red Chevrolet Chevelle and we’re off. The heroic villain Jack has come to see me all the way from the West Coast for a day or two. Slurping on his milkshake, the ones that have more sugar than that sketchy cotton candy they have at sixth flags in New York. He hands me a coffee suggesting we get one kick or another. We’re back and we’re toxic. Sunshine and chocolate bars, Jack and Roxy.
”It was May” he says mockingly and the rock and roll from the road was undeniable.
”And how can the Strip, with its neon signs and obesity minds and midnight blues- the place where dads went digging the gold way to Mexico- produce a precious soul like Roxy Day? TELL ME HOW O SAD AMERICAN NIGHT!” He yells out of the window. Ha Ha you’re so funny Jack. We’re leaving everything behind us, the years and troubles and kicks. ”You ready to kick it?” I am always ready to kick it. The car speeds up. We are driving past the stores that market burgers with boobs, the family owned restaurants, the crying wives and cheating husbands, the pool table hangouts and the sinners at the church. Then, we are out in the desert with no car or light for fifty miles across the flats. On the road there is only beat, no sinners, no heat, no meat to eat, no greet and meet. No nothing. Behind us is only, construction, reduction, destruction. RIP originality, RIP authenticity. They say the city is the transformation to the civil society, but we’re all beasts. If we don’t let the beast free, this town is all we’ll ever be. But Jack has fire in his eyes, and I follow him everywhere on the road. The miles in front of us hold promises of the softest air and a place to breath, and we’ll be in Mexico by dawn. We stop by a gas stop, I always need chocolate and I buy a postcard for 2 USD that I wont write or post and Jack laughs but says nothing. He knows that I won’t send it and he understands, Jack is a no question asked guy. The gas station is smelly from bad food and old frozen turkeys in the bottom of the ice cream refrigerator. Is there ever any nice gas stops? I look at the postcard and he ignores my afternoon blues and does jazz moves past the dairy shelves and then buys two of those stupid tourist t-shirts and caps that say, ” I heart CA” and more beer than we can carry. We get on The Old Pacific Highway but I don’t know how cause I fall asleep to the music we used to make love to. Baby baby, remember when we were so good. The wind begin to hit us, and Jack is asking me to drive instead. He opens a beer in the passenger seat and spills it over himself when falling asleep. The 1 takes us to the 101 highway and then we’re in San Onofre, being greeted by the destructive boobs, the abandon nuclear station, and I wonder how many times on the road I’ve exploded without any weapons of mass destruction. The moon is light in the grey night and feeling blue I look at Jack who’s escaping to the places he never told me about. The night is soft, and the big bad blue ocean is keeping me company in the night. Hitchhikers are walking on the side of the road, and mountains bigger than their dreams and the American failure is on my left. The ocean lures me in, high on the smell of saltwater I’m dying to dive in. Taking a left to get off the freeway, parking the car in such hurried way I wake Jack up, I am running, sliding, climbing to get down the cliffs to the secluded beach. The NO SURF beach has always been my favorite, all the surfers, locals and valley girls mock it but I thought it was beautiful in a giraffe-wanting-to-live-in-the-arctic-kind-of-way. When back in the car, soaking wet and cold from the water, Jack hands me his stupid T-shirt and cap with a devilish smile on his face, ”dig it kid”. I try not to laugh but can’t help cracking up ” you’ve been a butt your whole life” but I love him. And we get high. Joint jokes and he’s a hoot and half. And through the smoke I see him. No face to compare to Jacks he has a face of every person you’ve seen on Times Square or the Strip. Everyone looks the same on the Strip- the consumer slaves, the bohemian nightmare, eunuch sluts, the decades change but the people have the same backbones, age old gender roles and washed out t-shirts. Jack has an ordinary face for an extraordinary person. His hair is long and pants ragged and his eyes are lazy and careless but tender, reflecting the disposition he had before the road made him harsh and edgy.
I put on the radio and the speedy music sounds slow and feels intense in my marijuana filled veins. The radio sings ” Boom clap sound of my heartBEAT. BEAT the beat goes on and on”. We jump in the car and continue our journey towards Mexico and we hit the border at dawn. Jack and I, we’ve been back and forth across the country several of times in cars, trains busses and cycles but soon our adventures are over. He is here now but soon I will watch him walk off alone, as the last time I saw him three years ago when he was wandering around the corner of 7th avenue and then he was gone- gone. And one day soon, any day now, when the sun goes down in America, and I am alone breathing in the air of LALALA promises, I think of him, I think of ol' Jack. Jack, the one I love, the one I lost and the one I never fully got to know. I think of him, and it is so hard to love him when he is so far away. We’re still great friends but we have to go to later phases of our lives. As I hear of children crying, wives kissing their husbands goodnight or waves hitting the shore, I think of Jack. Wishing he was that one post card, that I not only bought but also sent. But now, Mexico is beautiful in the dawn, and him and I are as toxic as the tequila we have for breakfast.
---------
F.E.W 7th of December 2015.
Ps. This text is fiction... kinda.
Naive narcissism and drunk calls.
She is stumbling, stuttering, shaking.
Dialing, degenerating, drowning.
As he picks up, she sobers up and feel safe.
The strangers, lovers and friends are looking for her now.
She hear someone call her name but pretends she didn’t.
They call her by a name that doesn't fit anymore.
Walking in the middle of the road she listens to his voice.
”Babe,why do you call?”
Confused and caring, he finally asks as she catch a reflection of herself in a car.
”Do you miss me? Just tell me what you’re looking for” he says.
She hears him, but it’s all blurry now.
She can’t see where the headlights starts and where the darkness begins.
City lights, car noise and strangers on the side walks,
are merged into one.
She laugh, but she don’t know why.
Hysteria hits hard,
and desperately she begins seeking her reflection in more passing cars.
Through watery eyes, the same familiar face that she sees everyday stares back at her in panic,
She looks like a stranger.
”Don’t you understand it by now?” she says, as her breath speed up like the cars around her.
”I don’t miss you, I miss me. And I sometimes think I can find that girl, in you. I’m simply here looking for me. We ruined her, and I lost her. And I just want her back ”
He starts saying something but it doesn’t matter now,
she is shaking and he doesn't make her feel the way she want to feel.
She can’t find herself, she’s not in any of the things she used to enjoy.
She close her eyes, dancing in the middle of the street,
spinning in circles,
howling down the sound of the honking cars by singing to herself…
Do you still have fun just like you used to?
Do you still make love just like we used to?
And her empty laugh is followed by a loud silence.
- F.E.W
Well, I asked the doctor if I could see you. It's bad for your health, he said.
I can’t speak your name anymore cause it has transformed into someone you’re not.
And I hope that your lack of self love has been fixed by receiving love from the world.
But it doesn’t really work like that, does it?
It has become so important for you to feel important.
You breath it now, live on it now.
Don’t you feel like a waste of space?
You see,
before you lived in sandcastles built on empty foundations,
before they crowned you a king,
you had royalty in your spine.
And you shouldn’t have to be painted in gold for people to see the glitter in your screwed up soul.
You don’t sleep like you used to anymore.
And it’s all rock and roll until they kill you babe.
Wear seven condoms, don’t be human, become your name, find famous friends.
Yes baby, you’re doing all the wrong things right.
For one last time,
lets fuck each other good
and treat each other bad.
If we’re Franc, I know thats really not your Style, if we cut the bullshit of you being a Sharming man, and get back to you saying ”I’d rather be broke with you baby than living their lives”, don't you see? Don’t you hear something that is louder than them screaming your name?
It goes ” fuck fame, fuck fame”.
----------
F.E.W 27/10-15
NoOneIsListening
New York is cold and far away now
the people have lost their beauty
and closed their homes.
A street musician sing, but no one is listening.
” The look of innocence is priceless but right now you look so lifeless”
The song of the rich.
New faces, same stories, no good intentions to be found.
There are sonsofbitches everywhere
and an elder couple are feeding the birds,
birds who’ll leave for elsewhere anytime now.
Even the birds are sonsofbiches.
It’s cold everywhere, the air, the people, my inside.
And even with the slightest sunlight, I’m lightly depressed.
No dancing, fucking, gin or toxic seem to help.
I am exhausted.
Tired.
Partly dead.
Color fades.
Everything is pale.
I’m home but not safe.
”Run now, run, you won’t get anywhere until you stop somewhere and even then & then” I whisper into the night ,
to a darkness that won’t answer back.
The waves are back,
”She’s lost control”,
laughter,
and shaky bathroom love-stories.
Love me too late
like Nick Drake.
Joy division,
no submission.
Babe, treat me like Miss Sedgwick, Bob.
Ruin me, por favor.
-----------------
F.E Weeren.
The world and us.
The wind hit her already cold body, as she was walking the streets of New york in the early morning hours and reminiscing.
She remembered the first time she felt safe.
They were just a bunch of kids back then, even though it was not too many years ago.
But if you count age in years rather than experience, the two of them would be the youngest people on earth.
She was sitting there, on a tiny little rock, next to a guy that used to be so important to her, and now she can’t even remember his name. She remembered his smell, and the sound of his voice but that was about it.
He didn’t love her, but he loved the world just as much as she did, and that was enough for her.
They were sitting next to each other taking about the world like it was a fantasy land yet to be explored.
And for the first time, they said things out loud that they never said before.
Dreams, ideas and hopes too big for a town like theirs. Too big to say out loud.
”I wanna have a billions of love affairs in Paris…and I want to see beauty through a lens in India ” she said, and then their list went on.
When they were out of outspoken wishes, but not even near to be done with dreams, they looked at each other.
” Aren’t we crazy for wanting all this?” she said as she was staring at her hands in front of her, shaping and moving them as a butterfly.
”Aren’t we absolutely nuts for craving the world this much?” She said as he answered her with a smile, but greeted her with silence.
”Or maybe they’re the crazy ones, for settling I mean. But what if we’re just young? What if we’ll become like them. Forever stuck on the same job, house, with the same lover and we’re not happy, but just about happy enough. I hope forever isn’t for anyone. But what if that’s what we become? When we’re not so goddam young anymore” she said as her hands started shaking and her face expression went blank, as if the image playing in her head scared her.
And he finally ended the silence, still smiling at her in comfort.
”Babe, that doesn’t sound much like settling down but giving up. And it don’t sound much like you. You will never become what you were expected to be. You’re already better than that. You’re so much better than them all. ”
She crossed the street like a black cat, and cars around her started honking and woke her up from her visit on memory lane.
The neon lights and the city noise from the road kept her company as she got closer to her apartment. She hadn’t thought of him for years.
Not when she was in Paris, with one of all her lovers, not in rome drinking his favorite cheap wine, not when she took photos of the Viagra Falls, not when she played with children with the brightest smiles in Africa.
She had spent years of traveling, without even thinking of him once.
But on the day where she signed the papers of her first permanent apartment, he popped up in her head.
He was dead now, and she couldn’t help to wonder if he loved the world a little bit too much, or if he lived life a little bit too fast.
Here she was in New york, the gathering pot for the people that refused to settle, whose only forever was themselves, whose journey towards their dreams and goals were a never ending road.
And as she met hundreds of people on the street, going in different directions in their life, she felt herself merging into that pot. The dreamers, the doers, the travelers.
And as she looked at the faces of people she never met, she felt safe again.
She was alone without feeling lonely.
And that’s probably the reason why people travel.
Sometimes you feel at home in places and people you weren’t suppose to belong to.
And that’s the greatest journey of all, the search of whatever place that may be.
Forever and Her.
We fucked it up and Baby That's okay.
You're staring at me,
and behind the color of your eyes that is so familiar to me, is a total stranger.
We used to be so much more than this.
Strangers.
We deserved to be so much more than this.
But we lost it, we both became blind looking at stars, chasing glitter and gold.
We chose the path that flattered our egos. We picked shallow admiration and one night stands over mad and magical love.
And baby that's okay.
But now, we're sitting here wondering if we could ever go back to those people that loved so deeply and cared so much.
But I am nothing like the girl you once knew. My empty eyes feel nothing when staring into yours.
You have nail polish marks on your bedroom walls now, and it's safe to say I have some stories too.
The two ghost people sitting next to eachother couldn't be further apart.
But baby, this is all on us. We got ourselves here.
We never wanted to miss out on life, and that's the best and the worst quality we share.
I won't lie- Life will be hella lonely now that we have forgotten how to love. Goddammit we have forgotten how to care.
- Felicia Elinor Weeren
I just wanna hear your heart.
The sky was as dark as his thoughts have been lately, and she was sitting there next to him, with the same light and warmth that had kept him going for the last couple of days.
She passed him the bottle of that cheap wine that actually tasted good, as she kept looking out on something that wasn’t there to look at.
They hadn’t spoken for over an hour and they didn’t need to.
The warmth of her side and the music playing from his pocket was all he needed.
He looked at her, as he passed her the bottle back and could see a change in her face.
Her lips were shaking and her eyes weren’t wandering to somewhere far away anymore, they were here, present.
”Tell” he said.
Just one word is all that a person like him need to say to a girl like her.
She cuddled up on the bench, wrapped her tiny arms around her legs before she began to speak.
” It is just so sad you know, this beautiful beautiful world we live in is just so messed up.”
She took another sip, a big one, and let her palms dry away the drops that was left on her upper lip.
” I was just thinking about how it’s so sad. So goddam frikking sad that people don’t know what beauty is. That people admire rather than love. That people have long forgotten what it means to feel, to love and even care. It used to be the easiest thing on earth. And now, look at us.”
He still didn’t say anything, how could he, he knew she wasn’t done.
Her tears started rolling down her cheeks.
”Ask me what I want most in the entire world ” she said and stood up in front of him in the blink of an eye.
”Ask me” she said once again as his sad eyes kept looking at her while his mouth kept its firm line.
”What do you want most in the entire world right now?” he finally said.
She laid down on the ground and covered her eyes with her palms.
”I just wish, that the entire world could go blind.”
And he smiled, not because she was laying in the dirt or because he was happy.
This girl, was crying for so much more than her own sadness, and that is truly what makes a person beautiful.
That was what she tried to say, that no one ever does that anymore- Feel, love or even care.
He looked at her and she wasn’t crying anymore, but he knew that her heart ache as her eyes started wondering to those far away places she sometimes spaced out to.
She wanted the world to go blind, not because of her own selfish reasons, but for his.
Some people, like him, live their entire life trying to find someone that sees the beauty within them just to get ignored, and beautiful people, like her, live their whole life getting admired but consumed in a way that tells them that their physical beauty is all that matters.
His beautiful little sister who, if even possible, had a more magical heart than face, wanted the world to blind so that people would start to hear each others hearts.
- F.E.W
.
.
She was just laying in the bed, still wet from the rain outside and played with her hair. And as he was watching her through his highness, he could not help but think that she was the most beautiful creature he ever seen. Not that he would ever let her know.
He didn’t know if it was her eyes. As the world around him was spinning, he could always look into her eyes and somehow make sense of it all. Or if simply, the fact that when he was sober and on no drugs, she was the only colourful thing in his black and white kinda life.
Stumbling, he layed down and touched her face. Covered her face with his big, shaky palm. And all she did was laugh. He stared at her, and found some clarity for a moment.
“I think you will be good for me” he said, still touching her face.
She stopped laughing.
“ I’m no good to no one. But I’ll make sure you won’t be lonely”
And with those words, he could not help to think that she was just like the drugs, and he would be tripping hard on this one.
-Felicia E. Weeren
.
It took me years to understand
That the more I tried to settle her flames,
The bigger her fire grew,
And the more I tried to control her,
The further I pushed her away.
And when she was gone,
She had left nothing behind.
And for some reason I still thought
of her and hoped...
That somewhere, someone has finally
learned how to set her heart free.
- R.m. Drake
Are we out of the woods yet?
