my girls.

Animal Collective "My Girls" from Chad von Nau on Vimeo.

filmwarr

teenagers.

Click

( I'm Sorry(forever) )

His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne's t-shirts
When the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things, rotting fast, in their sleep
Oh, the dead

Twenty-seven people
Even more, they were boys
With their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God

Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed
He kissed them all
He'd kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took off all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss on the mouth

And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floor boards
For the secrets I have hid

filmwarr

Curse Your Branches

Im not normally emotionally tied to many

artists.

In fact, I like to say I choose those few I do

care about with a certain degree of

examination and study.

So when I say an artist has upset me, it

really, truly, hurts.

David Bazan has upset me.

I really wish I could express myself with greater accuracy in this

moment.

but instead of stumbling over my words as I so often do, I

managed to procure an video embed from youtube that

explains everything.

Comments?

peace and love,

filmwarr

Have You Passed Through This Night?

Please press play on the playlist above and wait 10 seconds BEFORE you read this entry.

If you need to be distracted please come back later.

Thank you.

Enjoy. ~

Imagine a young boy clenching on to the form of a little girl in the middle of a street

a plastic bag floats past on the wind

tears are rolling down his cheeks

in rivers that meet and mix with snot under his nose

running down his chin

dripping onto his clothes.

dripping into hers

her dress is crusted with dirt and ash

it feels rough against his skin as he holds her

he softens it with his tears

the boy's grip is tight but she is slowly falling out of it

tears dried against her face

her limbs stiffened with sleep

he can no longer see clearly

the world around him is hazish as if in a dream

trees are black forms against a dull orange sky

her scattered papers are blurred white shapes spread across darkness at their feet

her body is in his lap

his gun hung loosely over his left shoulder

the tip stuck into the street

and it was smoking still

he is screaming now

screaming and sobbing

the boy was a mess and he had made a mess out of her

he sees her hand dip to touch the cool pavement and he snatches it up in his hands

the blood mixes with the dirt in his palms

and under her fingernails.

"This great evil - where's it come from?" he choked out between sobs desperately,
"How'd it steal into the world?
What seed, what root did it grow from?
Who's doing this?
Who's killing us, robbing us of life and light, mocking us with the sight of what we mighta known?
Does our ruin benefit the earth, aid the grass to grow and the sun to shine?
Is this darkness in you, too?"

Have you passed through this night?

http://www.projectak47.com/

filmwarr

Come Now Sleep

Sometimes we all feel like ghosts.

There are times in our life when we feel too emotional for our own good.

There are times in our life where we don't feel anything at all.

This is the way of the ghost.

I think about what it is to be a ghost from time to time. I see the spirit as a being of unknowable lonliness. To be in the world but out of the world. To live in a place but not really be there. To live next to man but never be seen, never be heard. Never be felt. To watch over the world as a spectator trapped in an ethereal existance.

All of us feel like ghosts at some time. Some of us more often than most.

To be heard and to be felt; these things are gifts. They are priviledges. We've been given these things, these senses, to make love out of them.

What else are we to do with our feelings? We have a heart, we have a mind. We have hands and feet, eyes and ears. What else to do but love? What else is there to anything but love? To life? What else is worth our time? What else it worth it?

Why do we do it... why do we cause so much pain?

I tell you, blessed is the ghost.

Blessed is the ghost.

With love,

filmwar

the earth is not a cold dead place

First Breath After Coma

I'm fine now. I am not yet dead, which is something to be happy about.

And to be honest, I actually feel pretty selfish.

which always tends to happen whenever I express inner dispair.

I guess I always feel that only I should have to deal with it. That I own those feelings and to let them loose would be to burden someone else, directly or indirectly.

The idea of something created inside of me causing anyone else worry or distress makes me ill.

which is why I enjoy entertaining so much.

why hurt someone else to make yourself feel powerful when you can make them smile instead?

to me that's the greater power.

The Only Moment We Were Alone

I haven't heard from Emily in a week. The last thing she told me is that she is trying to fight her addictions.

I hope she's okay.

... I still love her.

Six Days At The Bottom Of The Ocean

I applied at a movie theatre a few blocks away. It's an AMC 20 plex.

my parents are excited. They say it will be a great opportunity.

AMC is so corporate. They run their business like an assembly line.

Employees wear matching red polos and blue dress slacks.

there are over 50 stores nation wide.

My name will be in their computer and they will send me paper cut-out checks every other week.

Which stands for money.

Dollars and cents that I will spend to fuel our economy.

I hate working this way.

I can't wait until I graduate so I can do what I love.

Memorial

War in reverse means everyone gets to come home.

Your Hand In Mine

War is over. If you want it.

I'm going home.

my heart hurts

my heart hurts.

why do I care about her so much

i barely know anything about her.

and yet I hold my breath with every text

and I can't stop thinking about the last time we were together

I replay it in my mind every hour of every day since that night

What did I do wrong?

I don't understand it.

I can't.

In these times I turn to God

but my heart hurts

it's too heavy to be touched

so it just sits

and waits

I'm so selfish and ignorant.

I don't feel like a gentleman today.

"We never met, you and I

We were always inside, we were somewhere inside one another.
And I'll live without you love,
But what good is one glove, without the other?

Still you only ask about my leaving,
But honey I had no choice,
And I call (and when you hear that heavy breathing)
For the sound of your voice.

But you sit there silent, folded arms
And look down as I walk by
My face has changed, you know it's me
You know by the stillness in my eyes.
Come and whisper in my ear, "You're very pretty, dear" and..and
"It'll be alright." You're lying!
But I don't mind tonight.

So I wander and I wander
Your absence beating inside my chest
And I try but I can't remember
The color of your eyes- JUST THE SHAPE OF YOUR DRESS!

And through a garden overgrown
Oh, it's a long walk home.
I said I'd not come back, well I'm coming back-
And you'd better be alone.

You sit there silent, folded arms
And you smile, as I walk by
My face has shamed, But you know it's me, YOU KNOW it's ME!
Come and whisper in my ear, "my dear! my dear!"
"it'll be alright...
It'll be alright....
It'll be alright....
It'll be alright....
It'll be alright....
It'll be alright."
No!NO!!"