Also if you're feeling frisky listen to my original song "The Going On" as well!

https://soundcloud.com/jessicanicolethomas/the-going-on-originalc

Listen to my cover/original arrangement of CocoRosie's "Turn Me On"

https://soundcloud.com/jessicanicolethomas/turn-me-on

I need a good drunk cry.

"You could write a song about some kind of emotional problem you are having, but it would not be a good song, in my eyes, until it went through a period of sensitivity to a moment of clarity. Without that moment of clarity to contribute to the song, it's just complaining"- Joni Mitchell

I'm writing music again. I can't even begin to express how wonderful this feels.

For Former Lovers

Green tea in the morning.
Red wine in the evening.
Making love before the sunrise.
Cigarette smoke to cover your lies.

Will you come back?
Before I cover my tracks.
Before I loose your scent.
And forget what you meant.
Give me silence, it's all that I need.
Give me silence, I'll continue to breath.

Your painted eyes.
Black tears when you cried.
Laced stockings.
And lustful talking.
You say "exposed too early"
They say "lacks emotional maturity"
But no need to fear
I'm fucked up too my dear.

Will you come back?
Before I cover my tracks.
Before I forget your scent.
Before I forget what you meant.
Give me silence, it's all that I need.
Give me silence, I'll continue breathe.

And though the melancholy weather mirrored my mood, 
You were the light that countered the dark. 
And though skeletons griped shaking my hands.
The song you sang soothed the sting.
And when angels and saints whispered hate into my ear,
I clang to you and forgot my fears.

Will you come back? 

Before I cover my tracks. 

Before I forget your scent. 

Before I forget what you meant. 

Give me silence, it's all that I need.  

Give me silence, I'll continue to breath.  

I knew who you were 

I don't know who you are 

I'm through with this fight. 

My eyes are closed tight.  

But in the water I will continue to wade. 

Because for sad people the world does not wait.  

Note to Self (and maybe you too):

More is less.  

and

Slow is best. 

Reveal less. 

Eat less. 

Care less.  

Attach slowly. 

Eat slowly. 

Love slowly. 

Gradual. Gradual. Gradual. 

The slower you go,

The less you give  

The lesser the pain.  

The longer the rewards will stay.  

Our tendency toward instant gratification will be the downfall of our generation.   

Whisper for revolution. 

Do not yell. 

The softer the voice, the closer ears will listen. 

Sh. 

The Going On

I just kept going, I just kept treading

But I went on dreading the going on.

I felt numb to the point of insanity,

Apathetic to the point of psychopathy.

While along the going I met my vice

Then fell tragically subject to the maggots and lice.

Their seductive whispers I couldn't resist.

I craved the pain, became a masochist

My will to live became dangerously tame,

I ignored the repercussions, I forgot shame.

I lived a year developing pseudo-antipathy.

I lived a year fearing all of humanity.

But a being can only sleep awake for so long.

Before the night is up our souls will interrupt.

And at this time some may steal their curious glances.

Consider them the cowards, they will refuse to take chances.

To their dismay throwing stones will not suffice,

For human beings aren't made of ice.

They may try to bind and control but I will resist.

This is my war to fight and my choice to enlist.

I'll set their hate on fire and watch their judgements disinegrate.

I'll continue to confide in the Lord, my God, though I may disgrace the saints.

So I'll just kept going, watch me keep treading.

I am no longer dreading the going on.

Fondest Memory

I felt the heat and summer longing as we entangled our bodies upon the damp grass.
When you first kissed me softly and told me I was beautiful, I found myself wishing we could somehow last.
Your whispered words made me feel things I should be ashamed to feel.
But you were there, we were present, it all felt too real.

As mosquitos broke my skin and took samples of my blood, you held me close and took samples of my heart.
And in return I gathered pieces of yours, these pieces I will cherish,  and with these pieces I will never part.
I have given away many pieces before to demons and kin and allies and lovers.
Yet somehow you are different, a cut above the others.  

From picking and devouring fresh summer mulberries, to kissing underneath a sky of burning rocks.
From walking six miles to sneak into a hotel room, to slipping into bed and fixing all the locks.
From hiding in a stairwell which led to absolutely nowhere, to cuddling on the floor in our favorite empty classroom.
To finally becoming one, concealed by the trees and enticed by the moon, while I consciously and carefully prepared my own tomb.

We tasted forbidden juices and found ways to bend all the rules.
We forgot about the future and flitted along like blithe and airy fools.
When our fingers would touch and mold together, my spirit felt still and unusually settled.
Yet when your lips pressed roughly against mine, our lust and passion raged and wrestled.  

Perhaps you employed the murmuring dragonflies to amorously seduce me.
Perhaps you used the encompassing night to impede my logic and ability to see.
Whatever the enchantments or ploys you chose to utilize
You found a way to dissolve my habitual deceit and guise.  

I am yearning for completion and you seem to be the piece I most desperately need.
Yet we both know it would be preposterous to try and nourish this seed.
You made me feel real again, something I believed impossible to do.
And I wish more than anything I made you feel something too.
You have shown me that I am worth more than my vice.
I promise you that you are far more than "just nice".  

Please don't leave, I don't want you to go.
You have managed to scoop me up from below.
We met at exactly the right and wrong time.
I need you to stay, I don't know if I'll be fine.  

Yet as time moves forward we will be left behind.
You must move forward, do not try to be kind.
I can't understand how a fleeitng summer romance could mean so much.
But I must find the will to kiss you goodbye and loosen my clutch.  

Perhaps our souls will meet again, in this life or the next.
Life has a way of gently guiding us through, leaving each player perpetually perplexed.  

Whatever will be, will be and as of now we cannot be.
But still, my summer love, 

You are and always will be my fondest memory.

Never get better for anyone but yourself. Because when you are still being "better" for that one person and that one person has moved on and you're here, still waiting, the ghost's and demon's screams become all you can hear.

I'm coming back for you my darling. I don't belong here.

I guess I have relapsed.

Love Me

Love me kindly

Love me fiercely

Love me passionately

Love me regardlessly

Love me generously

Love me compassionately

Love me unforgettably

Love me absurdly

Love me illogically

Love me secretly

Love me publicly

Love my sillily

Love me happily

Love me artistically

Love me beautifully

But most importantly,

Love me bravely.

And now I can feel everything falling apart. I've tricked myself for long enough. Things aren't good and I am slipping into relapse. I don't know what to do. I can't tell anyone, I am so afraid to tell anyone. I don't want people to be disappointed in me. Feeling as if I have caused disappointment scares me more than dying again. I am so lost, I can't do this alone but I can't handle these feelings. I can't. I don't know what to do.

"Happiness"

Words once quickly and blissfully entered my soul, flowed gracefully into my mind, from my pen danced upon my paper, and then rested serenely there.

Passion once engrossed each action I would take, each word I would speak, each breathe I would breath.

Emotions and feelings once drowned out all sense and logic, leaving me gasping for air and longing for an escape.

This was my prior to my "saving grace".

Prior to my body's introduction to mind altering (some may say mending) chemicals (others may say poison).

Prior to the team of doctors trying to work impossible miracles.

Prior the countless hours of "coping skills" and "patching up the past"

Prior to my acute and dangerous emotions being dulled and assuaged.

Prior to the wounds healing and the scars forming.

Prior to the light.

Is this the light?

Is this freedom?

If this is freedom I am still begging for revolution.

For I feel trapped in a farrago of expectations and forced optimism now more than ever.

If the chemicals were thrown away would I return to the treacherous state I was before?

If I continue this cycle of self harm will I attempt to end my life a second time?

No one can truly say.

But one thing I am sure of is that this "happiness" is contrived, this "happiness" is not reality.

For no human being will ever be able to create happiness with science and logic.

For happiness is just the opposite,

Emotional and painfully illogical.

I have given up on love, or rather love has given up on me.

When the light is shone the makeup is fixed, the costume is adjusted, and the tears are wiped away.

When there is nothing but darkness the makeup runs, the costume is disassembled, and the tears flow smoothly and painfully.

Silence is the key. Remain silent, reveal little, and keep your inner most, private, cynical, and upsetting thoughts to yourself. That way you are always one step ahead. Never depend on anyone; become self sufficient and independent. Remember: Everyone will let you down and the fool that utters “forever” is a liar, sometimes we lie to ourselves too when we promise “forever”. Nothing lasts forever except your eternal bind to yourself, which in fact can be broken if you so choose. Develop your relationships to learn and grow and give your knowledge to others, not to be fulfilled or satisfied by another being. That is called a false sense of hope because no one will ever be truly able to fill you up if you are empty. Or perhaps I am wrong, perhaps my perception is warped and tainted. Some people see more, some people see the sadness in things others see happiness in. A young couple in love; this couple will end up more broken than they began. A new born child; this child will grow up to have to endure the pain the world plans to place upon his or her shoulders. Some see sadness, some see happiness, no body sees reality. I suppose reality is a mixture of the two, although I evidently tend to sway towards the negative side of the spectrum. Some may blame my character, some may blame the chemistry of my brain, some may blame my upbringing, some may blame culture. I say, nothing is to blame. I say reality will always be a mix of the two and no human being will ever be able to see reality for what it truly is. Funny how I can ramble on, I have completely switched subject although I didn’t exactly have a subject to being with. This piece of writing has been written in vain. This shouldn’t make any sense to anyone. I make no sense. How can I? I don’t even understand myself.

She left and she isn’t ever coming back.

She sat far away and stared often; she is always present but always at a distance.

She stayed but its like she’s not even here, like nothing ever mattered.

She pretended to leave, yet is still haunting me every moment of every day.

Skip a dose, skip a night of sleep, skip a meal, take a shot … or four, and take some chances.

This is where it leaves you.

Clenched fists, knotted stomach, teary eyes, splitting headache, and further away than you were before.

But the problem is, I’d do it all again in a second.