Parental Advisory; That Girl's A New Breed; 2.

Finally Austin's eyes peeled open. Two in the afternoon, still hazy from the night before. He'd stumbled in at 5:30 a.m., Allie's sweet, hammered voice in his ear begging for his help. She couldn't even carry herself, and he couldn't believe he'd driven her Jeep Renegade home. He'd swear the unique square headlights were burned into his skull. He sat up, entirely unsure of where his blankets had gone... oh right. They were piled onto his arms, where that girl had fallen asleep, after doing everything he could to get her there. Ran his long, calloused fingers through her magic marker hair and listened as she muttered sweet nothings and hostile everythings. Played soft music. Made sure she ate. Finally, in a brief rustling of sheets and tossing of pillows, she was asleep. An arm thrown over his chest, fingers entwined in the scruff hair on his chest, her tiny, chemical head resting firmly over his heart, his consistent rhythm lulling her into darkness.

Now there were blankets between them, as though she had arranged them to create a barrier between the pair. Not surprising. He was certain they'd gotten into some kind of completely heinous argument about what kind of jelly he kept in the refrigerator, and whether or not it was the right brand. He was only glad now that they were in his apartment, he wouldn't have to sneak through the window before she through the infamous cast iron skillet toward him in rage over God knows what.

He never moved until she woke. Watched her sleep, for once in calm oblivion. Truly a moment to be cherished. When conscious, she was always wily, unpredictable, fiesty and completely head over heels for all of his mistreatment.

Parental Advisory; That Girl's A New Breed.

His name was Austin Alexander Bryant and who the fuck did he think he was talking to like that? I should've taken him out right then and there, a solid right hook to the jaw. Talking to my girl like she was lower than him, if such was even possible.

Her name was Allie E. Camsen, and no one ever seemed to know what the E. stood for. She smoked too much pot and caused too much trouble, but she always knew what she was doing. Partied hard without a care, singing songs and manipulating minds.

Allie couldn't get enough of everything dangerous, and she knew that boy couldn't handle her. But still, he was along for the ride without a chance to escape, even if he wanted to. He just watched as she drove her manual transmission piece of shit Jeep Renegade, stereo so loud he was sure she'd have a parental advisory sticker stuck to her somewhere. She was so raunchy and inappropriate, but he could never get enough. The Renegade doors existed once, until they got into a fight and he took them off just to upset her. Even when she broke into his Chevy to get them back, she only tore chunks and implanted dents into the clean white body of his precious four wheeler, just despite him. She left the doors in the bed of the truck, and there they had stayed for five months. Just to see who could last the longest.

She'd shout Juliette and The Licks, The Sex Pistols, and Joan knows she didn't give a damn about her tomboy reputation, that girl was a Cherry Bomb.

Austin would never leave her side, no matter how many times he had to drive her Jeep through the mud she'd gotten it stuck in. She was lude, crude, and inappropriate, but the most beautiful, deadliest avalanche he had ever seen. He couldn't let go.

Fuck A Lighter, I'll Light You Up.

I've been writing this book
About all the things I've done to you
And all I've put you through
I know there are things I should say
And millions of things to do
But I'm so tired of hearing you
Talk, Sing, Speak, Move.
I'm so tired of hearing you.

You blew my mind
And I lit you up
I watched you catch fire,
Insecurities ablaze
You just added fuel,
To this flame we started a year ago

All these pages smell like cigarettes,
Hey mister got a light?
You blew my mind and I lit you up,
Hey mister got a light?


"Tell me once again; that you'll love me to the death and should I die you swear that you will come for me."

Shooting Stars Off The Walls

To feel you on my skin

Is a wonder of the world

You stepped around me today

I felt your glance your words your vibes

And every secret that you left in the dark

It's out of our hands now,

Take me somewhere we both know

Somewhere we both can go

I'll love you tonight,

No words till morning

I'll wake to you,

Sharp breaths on my neck.

To see you here again today

I never thought to hear

You'll try to ask for my attention

I'll steer you into misdirection

Hypertension, in suspension

Catch me if you can.

It's out of our hands now,

Take me somewhere we both know

Somewhere we both can go

I'll love you tonight,

No words till morning

I'll wake to you,

Sharp breaths on my neck.

An Open Letter To Neil Pert.

Dear Neil Pert,
After listening to your seven minute drum solo, and your eleven minute drum solo, and... you get the point, I was a huge fan by the age of twelve. I'd flaunt my knowledge of you in classic rock conversations with my friends' parents, and watch as they would fully engulf themselves in every word I said.

Move over for Joshua Elness. The eighteen year old is surpassing you (and everyone else, for that matter) like it's nobody's business. I've been watching him play the drums, quads, snare, entire marching band percussion section since the sixth grade, and after a six month hiatus from him, I'm only more impressed. His fills are faster than ever, and his introductions undeniably unstoppable. His music taste is widespread, though he mainly has both feet attached to double bass pedals in the Central Valley's Hardcore music scene. It's a huge deal around here. Sitting next to Elness, and he can't stop fidgeting. Anytime music is playing, he's tapping along, moving his feet on imaginary pedals faster than any teenager should be able to. "It just comes natural now," he explains. "I can't help it. It's an addiction."

And even better, he's humble about it. He'll readily spout names of local drummers better than him, and signed drummers he looks up to. But once you hear him play... you're lost in the consistent feel and rhythms he creates.

Another Slice, Please.

My right side speaker screams static through your whispers
I can't hear a word you're saying but can't we pretend?
My right side speaker cuts up that shitty music you're blaring
I can't tell where we're going but can you pretend?

Tell me your stories, your life, your dreams
I want to know every word
Even if my piece of shit speakers say
That you're a piece of shit liar
I can't stop feeling you here.

My vision is blurred and I'm losing touch
Reduced to areas of light, will you take me home?
My ears are ringing my eyes are darting
But you keep on singing as if we're alright

I think we're alright
I feel this is new
I know we're so reckless it's driving me crazy
But I can't stop feeling you here.

Tell me your stories, your life, your dreams
I want to know every word
Even if my piece of shit speakers say
That you're a piece of a dream
I can't stop feeling you here.