Nicole Blackman

At any moment, you know, your manufactured cool could blow. Welcome to the land of pointless and destructive.
You keep whining and crying into your beer, complaining the reception doesn’t come in clear (you just can’t make a connection)
What are all the pretty people on? No one ever learns to speak American. There are only so many Kung Fu movies you can watch.
Haircut, hometown, heroin friends. You make excuses, you should make amends. Who do call for help when all your friends are dead?
Now they’re calling you from the bar, and they’re fucking with your Film Noir and you wear your hope like Christmas.
Now I don’t know to break this to you, but her blue eyes were never blue. So now the good times are gone but really, they never arrived.
The terrycloth’s beneath the tie and another liar is caught in a lie,

“I love you” hangs in the air like a subtitle.
There’s a war going on inside the bar, she calls for the check, you call for the car. And when you kiss her she tastes like hot candy.
Now your left to wonder, how she sized you up in three minutes or under. She’s out of your league, you’re out of your mind.
Things only feel true, when someone’s abusing you. You are sometimes startled, you are never surprised.
There are only two speeds: fast and faster, now your lashed to mast and lashed to master.
Whether in bed or in court, everybody gets off.
So she smokes to keep from eating and you fuck her to keep from feeling, and that is a taste, and that is a waste, and these are all of your days sacrificed.
You’re rocking out in an empty room, you’ve build your house, it’s become your tomb, “mmm thanks”, she says, “I’ll keep my options open.”
Now you’re nervous with hope, nervous with fear, she’s barely gone, and you’re barely here. Here comes the cocaine wake up call.
And like a boy, not a slave to fame, you kissed lipstick only after money came. Born in New York 30 years ago, you’ve died several times since.
Drive through tunnels and crawl through caves, and suffer through a life no city can save. They’ve got an unmarked car with your name on it.

So she smoked to keep from eating, and you fucked her to keep from feeling, and that was a taste, and that was a waste, now these are all of your days magnified.

Style over content, you know the other.

Keep struggling it out in the superstructure.

If you love something, chances are you can’t afford it.
Forget what’s ahead and what’s past, and live everyday as if it were the last.

The dead man never knows he’s dead.

You want to be famous and rich and happy

But you’re terrified you have nothing to offer this world
Nothing to say and no way to say it

But you can say it in three languages

You are more than the sum of what you consume
Desire is not an occupation
You are alternately thrilled and desperate
Skyhigh and fucked

Let’s stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves

Let’s stop this and start over
Let’s go out – let’s keep going

This is your life – this is your fucking life

We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside

Quit whining you haven’t done anything wrong because frankly
You haven’t done much of anything

Someone’s writing down your mistakes
Someone’s documenting your downfall

{ Nicole Blackman }



About Klassy

How Klassy got her groove back.

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