The silence of white.
This room is empty.
Before the first strum
before the first chord;
The leaking of color,
From my hand, it vibrates
Red
Orange
Blue
Indigo
Violet
White
And

Time slips
Faces move
Lips move
We move
Together
The push and pull
Tongues dancing
Hearts pulsing
And all is silent,
all is white.

This is December in my mind
Snow blowing ‘cross your face
Cross my heart, rewrite these lines
So even spring cannot erase

It’s hard to explain
Just what happens when you smile
Watching as the world around
Our Everything
 melts
Or shines
Recreating
Adapting
Glowing white,
Like silence

This is December in my mind
Snow blowing ‘cross your face
Cross my heart, rewrite these lines
So even spring cannot erase
The chill to shake your bones
The fear to call your own
I’ll sing to you a thousand times;
One last kiss to say goodbye
One last kiss to say goodbye
One last kiss to say goodbye
One last kiss to say goodbye    One last kiss to say goodbye        One last kiss to say goodbye

One last kiss to say goodbye

Impulse

everyone needs to tell their life story, everyone needs a biggest fan.
if nothing else, this is a shot.

so let's start at the beginning, the rising action, the times i have little to know memory. I was birthed. the night, I imagine, was cold. frigid even, The Man loved his wife then. every action has a consequence. every action is inconsequential. this night serves little to know purpose. I exist. oh yay, I exist. but who doesn't?

so let us fast foward, something i do remember, a first memory even.

Doing! mushrooms will always make that noise being crushed under my foot. in the background "you did what? why did you buy that for them?" The Man screamed at His Wife then, "like they need another toy!" first memory - anger.
there's little else to remember here. so let us fast forward.

I'm learning to read. I might be five now. reading the bible. The Man stayed away from His Wife then. "hands are for loving" but don't quote me, everything's fading. I became excited and told the man, so he went and got a stick. second memory - pain.
everything's fading, so let us fast forward.

"can we stay here to eat mommy?"
The Man loved his wife then.
"no, it's more expensive."
third memory - manipulation.
you get the point?
history repeats itself
I hate me.
I hate him
and i wear his face every day of my life.
and you wonder why i'm unhappy?
I know this may not be abnormal,
but you wonder why we're all unhappy?

there's little else to do, i know you, you know me, so let's do the little we can, and please, Hold on.

because i refuse to be original

"1, 2, on the field i remember you were incredible;"
"I'd swim the ocean for you"
"so take a bite of  my heart tonight"
"I've never wanted to dance with nobody but you"
"and i  guess i've always known my little crime would be cold"
"Turn forever hand in hand Take it all there on your stride It is ticking, falling down"

"I hope it rains, You’re the perfect lullaby"

"Tonight, I'mma fight 'Til we see the sunlight"
" i'm your biggest fan, i'll follow you until you love me"
" i've got the green light i got a little fight can you read my mind"

(my brain is the pioneer of nothing)

you never looked so beautiful
i'd do it all
take me; destroy me
you're all i want
i know you hate the boy i've been
but you can change it all as we fall
just let me sing you to sleep
and i'll be here all night
I do it all, do you love me?
do you know me?

(andplease, holdon)

Self-phobia

There is little more we can do for immortality, than to write
There is little more we can do to die, than to write
There is little more we can do; than to write

we breathe for survival, eat for survival, fuck for survival, we write to live, to kill, to be remembered, to die. Everything we want, need, hate, can't live with, and adore is in the words we're too afraid to just spill on to pages for fear of triumph

I'm so scared.

this is all a big mistake, every moment of my life i actually try for something is going to lead to nothing, everything i envy is little more than the illusion i have constructed of happiness. Nothing is ever as good as you imagine it. Nothing is ever as good as the original. nothing's as good as coke, nothing's as good as lauren (nothing's as awful either) nothing will compare to the lost first kiss the moments of bliss.

I was so scared.
I didn't even know what's going on, and

I am so scared
that i'll never figure out what to do.

I'm so scared, but I promies to hold on.
please, hold on. 

We are all so connected. i desperately wish we knew it.

as rain marks time on your window, did you know i was standing right out side? singing in the rain is never as jolly as it's connotation. headlights pass me, and frankly i don't care. the rain drips as if to wash away my fear, or build my courage to walk to your door.
Vindicated would be on the radio.
do not be mistaken, this is not a happy story.
In the end, i'm lonely, even with a girl to scream i love you at my crooked smiles crooked wish."I am selfish, I am wrong" i want to be kissed, so badly. I want  to roll over in my bed and put my arm around a girl that i'm so in love with. I want meaning, I want validation. "I am right, I swear I'm right." it has nothing to do with sex, as a virgin, i find that i care very little about sex (i'm also an 18 year old male, if nothing else, this last little bit should help you understand the name of the blog.) I just want someone who makes my heart feel as if it might burst out of my chest and fuse with hers in some sort of awful, wonderful, perfect mess.

oh, yeah. i'm a walking contradiction
I don't care would be on the radio
 there's little else to say except "I don't care what you think, as long as it's about me" and Fall Out Boy is unfortunately catchy. the worst part of dreaming is waking up, and still being lonely.

sorry for the emo-blog.
but please, hold on.

everytime i slay a dragon i'm looking for eagles.

my life is no more interesting than that of the next guys; I guarantee it. yet, very much like the next guy, i feel the need to regurgitate my every thought onto the world wide web. every word I've typed so far has made me feel even less interesting than i already viewed myself. because yes, the first two sentences the title, and this very word are lies.

if you're reading this; you know me
if you know me; you know what i'm about to say
if you know what i'm about to say, then why are you still reading?

every story has rising action, a climax, and falling action. the latter being least entertaining, and inaccurately named, and the state i'm constantly living in. my problems are solved by running to the end of the book, it truly works wonders, but i need a disaster, full fledged hospital bound are-we-gonna-make it disaster. and how wonderful, i live in a false world, where fairy tales are held in the non-fiction sections of libraries, physics and Cinderella. my perfection. my life.

but for those of you who don't know me. I am Michael anthony DeRoos. the aptly and falsely named. i am the father, son, and motherfucking holy spirit, and i love you. because i have little else i can do. i don't know you, or the colour of your eyes, or your brain, or your skin. I have no preconceived judgments. i am completely ignorant of your flaws and yes, despite what you chose to post on myspace in junior high, this is love. I hope that as you learn more about me than the three posted lies, you'll find my words, if not my life, interesting enough to read the next line. 

follow me and please, hold on.