euphoric_deception's Xanga

A Change of (y)Ear

Sun, 31 Dec 2006 20:23:15 GMT

Dear, Xanga

We're through.

Love,
CHERYSE

Touch...

Sat, 30 Dec 2006 16:36:20 GMT

Touch me...
Touch me underneath it all.
Touch me where it hurts... where your Summer meets my Fall.
Touch me gently with an affectionate suspiration.
Touch me relentlessly with your crave for animation.
Touch my imagination. Paint me over sex. Yes, brush, just touch.
Touch me now. Fuck, just... imagine that touch.
Touch me verbally with the devotion of your... ears.
Touch my tears with your securities and your securities with my fears.
Touch my body intellectually.
Touch my incompetence, professionally.
Touch me, touch my mind, touch my wonders' sexually.
Touch me... eventually. Eventually... you must touch.
Touch me with your selfishness.
Touch me a little then too much.
Touch my dreams with your... tranquil delirium.
Touch my inner-hells with the potency of your angelic empyreans...
'cause in your touch, in my... inner vexed lust...
Lies bleed in numbers from Heaven's splintered ex-trust.
Touch my tempered steps and... order them into a cadence.
Touch my condensed rush and accord it with your patience.
Touch my art and touch my comfort with... your maintenance.
Touch my presence, touch my absence, touch my blatant facelessness.
Touch my independence with your... need for co-existence.
Touch my floating intimacy to break this repeated mode of distance.
Touch my waters, touch my sands... but, but only enough to leave your imprints.
Touch me in an instant, lovingly... like a Mother does her infant.
Touch my prospicience... with your misconstrued clairvoyance.
Touch my emotional tolerance with your self-defined annoyance...
Touch me...
Touch my...
Touch us...
Oh, my, why... wont you just touch?
Touch me now. Fuck, just... imagine that touch.

Healing Wound

Wed, 27 Dec 2006 19:54:16 GMT

On my sheet of blankness I ranked this,
as my... highest form of addiction;

my shyest warmth of conviction...

for in the slightest norm of breath I gripe

the nicest orb of LIFE shifting...

where deep beneath the blue lines

and parallel mercury margins,
I... slide

the tip of my

pen against an offense unbearably hard and...

create a clutter of sufferance,

amongst the cover of "Utterance."

My stuttered intentions are mentioned
to be apprehensions - threats in another sense...

I... watched Love forget what our wonders meant
and floss no regrets with that wonderment...

but it was... sweet encumberment...

to recollect all that I've underwent...

the mindful sex

and numbered days,

your blind-folded sets,

oh, what a blundered daze...
You are... underpraised,
amazement...

just so... amazing.

I was amazed in a maze
and... paraphrased in a day-fling...

and that, that was the main thing -

to maintain,
to name parts,

to sustain,
to remain reasoned,

to reclaim... a beat's heart...

you see, you are...
the serrated arch,

that... I grip like a mechanical pencil,
bleeding beautifully,
I imagine it's all sentimental...

chasing words, erasing nerves...
the dark hearted silhouette,

setting my mind to trace your curves...

perfectly symmetrical...

you most certainly intense the flow and...
the heavy mess that I scatter on every stress

as I continue to express... with my words... on and on...
and it finally dawned on... me... that
beneath every urge there resides an unsighted bond

that perception will forever and always

fail to grasp...

our ship was not sailed to last...
and... fast...

as I... staggered

the dagger

of your intimacy slid... into me, see..

and I chose to ride w/the blade inside

instead of releasing the blood of my misery

and reverie watched... as...

I shook in my gestures,
whenever your hooks made my head hurt...

and my voice only shivers and quivers in speech

because I'm simply and still am...

struggling to reach…

the point of reciting what your memo... reads...
with its swallowing hollowness.
I wallow just...

enough to know that I'm only writing in your memory...

and I..

I... can...

never

make up my... mind

if whether

or not I...

I can... scrape up my rhymes…

to arrive at that point...

yeah, that... point...
of projected enunciation

where your redundancy will be placed
in an instant-flux of misplacement...

where you

are here

and I...

I am here...

and my, I will slide the tips of my pens

like crimson shapes as those... lips of yours bend

and render the blends of... surrender...

they were tremors...
unshakable tremors...

you were my favorite sweater...of anticipation...

and I never went cold,

even when warmth sold-out,

I was sworn with no doubt...

the... thought of you

had my heart dancing in weaknesss,

the moth of youth wondered its harp just romancing in recess,

I was... speechless,

couldn't speak less...

and sleepless and you see this...

this is what I write for...

the wish for your kiss is the reason I write more..

I feel the heights of my nights soar...

with your face stained on my preference

and clutch the breaks of nothing...

as you're forged into a reference...

It's reverence...

The all-eye-seeing-being is,
all I... I seem to bring -

just to fall with deeper means,

and be the cause that keeps your dreams,

afloat... and singing

of beauty...

through me...

and these lines,

just to move me through these times...

like...
sunrays breaking through the blue,

politely removing lucid signs...
I am thinking of feeling and...
feeling the thoughts that I've...

invested into your hardships...

you see, the relationship I've sketched

is that of an artist and an artist.

She's Suited Hot In Beauty Spots

Sun, 17 Dec 2006 02:40:27 GMT

Artist: Meg & Dia
Album: Something Real
Released: August 8th, 2006
Label: Doghouse Records

Back in August, I received a promotional e-mail from East West records to pre-order "Something Real." I would've otherwise considered this spam, but I was in need of music so I figured what the hell, why not? The CD arrived on August 10th (there's no point in "pre-ordering" from HI) and turned out to be a winner. It plays like the first time, every time. Honestly, I listen to this album, at least, twice every day - all the way through.
I'm reasonably discriminating when it comes to female vocalists, especially in this "they-sound-just-like-they-sound" genre. It's not because I'm a sexist, but rather because I'm a critic and all joking aside, most bands led by a female singer fail to make a name for themselves or surpass those who have.
On account that they're a feminine duo (reinforced by two, equally feminine dudes), I think Meg & Dia are absolutely groundbreaking. Also due in part to the fact that they're not encompassed by their style. Their lyrics are honest in an adolescent way. Their acoustics are supersonic and un-produced (as they should be) and their electric tracks... thought-out and powerful. That shit fucking slams in the "whip."
They've been on T-Minus Rock for about a month now and they will be premiered on MTV2's Discover and Download this coming Monday (18th). I can only hope they spiral into society's eardrum with ease... like Fall Out Boy and Cartel. Man, those fuckers blew-up. Who gives a fuck if that's deemed commercial? As far as Music is concerned, I couldn't be more stoked to hear that starving artists are finally being heard... or um, fed.
On top of everything else, I'm heels-over-head-in-love with Dia's mouth - for real. Physically speaking, I'm sucker for a nice mug and sleepy eyes. Damn, and those beauty spots... fucking hold me, Son.

Meg & Dia - Roses (Acoustic) - Personal Favorite
|| Roses || Album Version || [3:27] || (mp3) ||
"Why are some girls so naive? He didn't unbutton your blouse to see
a better view of your heart. Oh yeah, can't blame you for trying."

Meg & Dia - Masterpiece (Acoustic)
|| Masterpiece || Album Version || [3:28] || (mp3)
"I am no masterpiece where innocence is painted green.
Isn't it strange to think that you created all of me?"

Meg & Dia - Cardigan Weather (Acoustic)
|| Cardigan Weather || Album Version || [2:56] || (mp3)
"You always had your secret ways.
I acted so serene. I was so drowsy then.
My fault. I'm so careless."

Meg & Dia - Setting Up Sunday (Acoustic)
|| Setting Up Sunday || Album Version || [4:04] || (mp3)
"Kid I'm right here... and I'm not leaving.
There's no way to make you stay, but...
I'm saving all my worries for that day you don't need me."
... and now for the distortion.

Meg & Dia - Monster
|| Monsters || Album Version || [2:39] || (mp3)
"He battered his tiny fists to feel something...
wondered what it's like to touch and feel something."

Howz dem chicks, Brah? Mean, ah?!

I'm not gonna upload the rest. Buy it!

My Idea of Porn

Thu, 14 Dec 2006 02:22:07 GMT

This video fixed my crappy day, hence a mid-afternoon decision to post. Pause the music player and watch!

Fp Hybrid Session Moskva Russia '05

w0mp-w0mp-w0mmppppp-womp - I'm gonna "cop" that bass flute and turn my studio into a Studio... or maybe upgrade to a one-bedroom and arrange to live in the living room. Music at all times, Baby - all-times, even when I'm washing the dishes and you're too busy watching MXC.

These guys are all about energy, People. Man... what I wouldn't give to see this shit with my own eyes.

My Idea of Music

|| Future Prophecies || September Feat. Roger Ludvigsen || (mp3)

Title-explanatory, maybe? I like to throw this one over a sun rise.

|| Future Prophecies || Deceived || (mp3)

I'm leaning more towards the lyrics than the beat itself. Just endure it... three minutes into the track, Tony goes dumb with the saxophone.

|| Future Prophecies || Dreadlock || (mp3)

The production of this track is spot fucking on. The beat box calls for footwork. Show me what you, Lill Mama.

|| Future Prophecies || Bring Tha Noise || (mp3)

Amp'er track. If this shit is too much for you, then get the fuck out of my car.

Buttermilk in the ear! It's their range of styles. Shovel and dig it, Bro-seph.

P.S. Try making that noise with your mouth... y'know, the "w0mp-w0mp-w0mmppppp-womp" noise. C'mon, it's fun! I'll go first.

This Final Will Define Hope

I've taken love notes to study for the test of time.

12:23 PM

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Thu, 13 Apr 2006 03:20:29 GMT

God damn-it, I love you.

Saturday, December 31, 2005

Sat, 31 Dec 2005 00:16:13 GMT

Thee elation of personal transformation

is quite explicable.

I could never tell the difference, though…

between the nows’ and thens’ of then and now,

but I'll remember how...

much we have changed.
Shit's like...

what's in a name,

if behind our names we remain shameless,

you know, and ain't this the basis,

of... that game we've named identity?

All too sentimentally,

I then proceed to incidentally,

revamp these shelves of ourselves,

with self-help but helplessly selfless vintage books,

like we've somehow become gifted misfits,

shifting pages of wishes with lyrically elliptical hooks.

Right,

like this visible change of page alignment.

The night...

was a morning,
postponed by this assignment:

"Write a brief introduction."

Ok well, um...
"Hi, I'm high, influenced by the way I've felt,

when I... cunningly introduced myself to this game of self."

Thursday, December 22, 2005

Thu, 22 Dec 2005 23:10:34 GMT

Dear Av,

I slip, quick, whipped by your sick-wit,
comfortable in discomfort, non-conforming,
but it… fits.

I am,
fixed and verbally betwixt w/your wrist flicks.
Oh how your pen spits a moisture
as murdering as your kissed lips.

I love it... what Love is,
I covet this unencumbered Love that we've got.
Two unspeakable people equally heard through an eavesdrop.

So please, drop...
the burning yearn - we'll never learn to give in,
without giving our Love to this unforgiving world we were given.

I live in, honesty,
and honestly, your honesty is onto me,
I'm honoring that you are honestly,
the only one I'm offering.

Softening, is your refrain,
but I remain engaged to fight facts.
Fact is, I write "I love you,"
always in hopes you'll recite back.

Sincerely,
Me

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Wed, 21 Dec 2005 19:43:45 GMT

My word: ever, is it,
is it ever much?
Never is it, is it?
It's just never been enough.
Oh, how she cleverly trusts,
but how I barely adjust.
Two hearts that have rarely touched.
She said
"You
should've
just..."

Fuck

So, brushed, be it me,
like fucking dust off her shoulders.
My word: has shown her verbs,
but not the warmth that I owe her.
Is it over?
Or is it over-analyzed?
An analytical obstacle,
She is Love's loving mastermind.
All too fast I find that this time and space is,
the very place where her lines of progressive pace erases.
Haven't ever, will I ever come to face it?
I'll surmount my countless chances,
but why couldn't I just embrace it?

Seriously, this is...
what...
it isn't.
My impotent diligence
negates the essence of her resilience,
So let me stand in the millionth,
second, where time allows me approach her.
where togetherness is meaningless in comparison to being closer.
where I hope,
and hope the most she'll say is "hate me."
Wish, I might,
but might I wish that that's a "maybe.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Sun, 02 Oct 2005 22:32:29 GMT

"I'll always love you... hate hurting you."