My one follower may be able to support me?
I’m making a short film for Cannes and need 2,500 euros.
I’ve been directing and acting for years but am penniless
Please donate money, share with your friends and ask them to do the same
http://www.sponsume.com/project/colour-short-film-cannes-2013
Intrepid thoughts for the cautious traveller,
Lightyears in space and you can’t unravel her,
Where has the noise gone?
It filled your life.
Intrusive thoughts about ending her life.
Intrepid thoughts for the dangerous traveller,
The days go by and you feel happier,
The weeks go by and you can laugh with her,
Intrepid thoughts again.
…and she looked at me with that cold stare she gave when she wanted THE answer and not the lies a person tells when they’re trapped.
“What was the problem? Why did you always plan to meet me and then never show? What excuse do you have?”
I looked into those unforgiving eyes that I had seen for such a short time, yet knew so well. I took a moment and asked,
“You want to know…? The same thing happened that happens every time.”
“Yes? And what’s that?”
“Simple, I fell in love.”
There’s no worse feeling then knowing you have greatness to achieve but being chained by demons so you may never realise it.
If my Emeteophobia isn’t cured soon, I’m going to go fucking insane.
Acting lessons and acting agency, hello future.
I’ve seen so little,
heard only a whisper,
Felt the mundane,
lived always the same,
My dreams are long,
My eyesight is short,
I have no march song,
I have no battle won or fought.
I’m a ghost to her,
She’s so real to me,
She likes the small talk,
I give it to try and see.
How is she,
This flower of streets?
This logical pessimist,
This illogical beast.
She’s is not brutal,
Graceful and free,
Quick with her tongue,
Too fast for me.
She may read my words,
For that I care not,
I don’t have high hopes,
I’ve left that old plot.
I’m content to compose,
To read, think and write,
Her words of sorrow,
Cast such dark a light.
Back on track. A friend to meet, a promise to keep.
When someone keeps saying they have nothing to live for, you wonder what on earth keeps them from getting offline and finding a rope. The very fact that they post such things suggest that they still have something to live for. Living to merely exist, or living to merely complain; but no person who has bought the ticket for the final station will call out their travel plan to the household.
If in doubt, you need not shout, or scream or turn an cry. Just stand up and with a sigh think I’m still wanted alive.
And still on Earth we can find Beauty, still on Earth raw passion and love.
Or a blessing in disguise?
Do your harsh words mean the truth
Behind your eyes?
I sat an stared,
In horror and joy,
Of what I’ve become,
Since I was a boy,
I’m am older and taller,
But less full of life,
I’m jaded not crazy,
Will never touch a knife.
But people get scared,
For my life it seems,
It’s not disappearing,
Just tearing at the seams.
I will repair it,
But it will take time,
I’ll be patchy and broken,
But will you be mine?
Very close to being the voice in an animation film
People are so very depressing sometimes
An yet beauty has scorned me,
Turned her head,
Given no reply,
Sent me weary to bed,
I know she has seen through,
The veil that I hold,
The look in my eyes,
She need not be told,
So I sit and I wait,
Hours on end,
Have I gained a lover?
Or lost a dear friend?
Beauty set sail to ships,
Set fire to cities,
Made men cry like children,
Made sterner men pity.
A golden eye,
A sparkle of light,
Could take all the weak,
And rise them to fight,
When a man’s heart fell,
Her lips talked him up,
Brought his eyes to hers,
And taught him to love,
This beauty’s not vain,
It is quiet, alluring,
You may read and scoff,
But her smile’s so assuring.
Those eyes that held yours,
They saw into the soul,
They took all the pieces,
And they made you whole,
You look and you stare,
You will not look back,
Her beauty restored you,
That’s a beautiul fact.
The loss deepens,
An island I’ve created,
Too late.
Swim to new shores?
Find new lands?
Has that come to hand?
Friends like a flower,
No water, wilt and fade,
These mistakes I’ve made.
Return to the fray?
To turn my cheek,
Will I seem strong or be weak?
Time is loose like water,
I must make my choice,
Or flounder, a fish out of water.
Life is just people and memories. Remember them well to cherish at the end.
I wake up one morning, one like many others, tired and heavy headed I proceeded with bright optimism to the day of challenges set before me. The sun cast a pale shadow over the world as I sat down to my coffee, hot steam dancing from the cup to rub elbows with the ceiling.
I got washed and dressed an fished out my iPod, flicking through the crowded plains of Facebook I saw that a friend and an ex-girlfriend were soon to be in the same part of town as I was going. “see you guys there” was quickly thrown into the fray of comments. This gave people quite an annoyed shock.
This may need more explanation for anyone reading, if anyone does, I have mild anxiety and this has made it difficult for me to go ‘out and about’. But I am eager to venture to the misty concrete jungle of Milan when the day is not in sight. I have bailed out on a lot of trips, so now we are up to date.
A second later my ex-girlfriend messaged me to say that I fucked up, that I should not have posted that ‘joke’ (factual as it was) and that I was losing all of my friends. So enters my title today, “And then there were fewer”.
