Maybe it's that marvelous view as they walk away that never seems to compel me to call them back.
Maybe its the happiness of being alone the wind in your hair or the the highways empty embrace that just seems to keep me ruining far longer than the rest.
The bottle the music a simple soundtrack to the existance we only care to forget.
Passion doesn't exit online as machines can't breath life into your lungs but I can't certainly darken your door if only you'd allow me to tonight.
The party we will have only to forget.
You me and the page it's all in secret and all for them to never truly understand .
Summer may you die.
As all the bad girls sing cheap motels were we gather the ice machine I vist to often underneath the stairs .
I sleep drink repeat .
Trying to find the lines I searched for all the these years past.
From the dust bit in Austin to the Kentucky bourbon embrace I will romanticize the decay only to show you the reality I to often ignore myself .
Another drink shared and hopefully another night with you.
The page can't capture passion .
But I believe I touched upon it more than once with her tonight .
I spoke to you in whispers
but you shouted out my shame
My confidence is now just splinters
I can no longer speak your name
At dawn the sun broke my mask
I wore to dance to your tune
Now I'm just a broken mess
for you look down upon as your due
Can we never hear the music again
that was once our beating pulse?
Why is it you're always the one
that sings more quietly than most?
While we blind ourselves
we simply drown with the tide
Echoes of the past reflect only the failures and so shall it always be
Tomorrows promise is a kiss of remorse
just the same, we shall part
Can we leave what was only,
to pretend what never will be?
As you pull me from the depths
I simply leave you waiting
The nightmares will fade
but will the dreams ever again ring true?
So why do we dance to the same old tune?
When the music goes away
do we simply just nod to each other
knowing there's no other day?
At midnight do we excuse ourselves
to slumber separately with our demons?
Or do we simply hold onto
to survive through the next season?
I taste the goodbye upon your lips
I hear our song slowly fade
Can you not simply follow me
to the shore
where new memories could be made?
In bittersweet reprise is our closing
Here do the credits role
Tonight is a moment and it bleeds the memories
Soon only to be pages from our past
Paint this moments portrait,
and stand back, not see the flaws
It is all in the illusion after all
Except for, in the grains of sand
upon which we danced
are the footsteps of our past
just washing away
Do the pages just turn on?
Because if you asked me in the beginning
I would have told you I didn't dance
But you grabbed me and started swaying
without me having a chance
to tell you I can't hear the music
I just move to a certain beat
The illusion is the only thing
that will move me to my feet
Isn't it after all, the flaws,
that will crack
and we will tumble
You may walk away singing,
while I still fumble with the illusion that we danced so pretty
under a fractured moonlight
While I tried to hold onto you
upon a tortured shore
You walked away from me
Leaving me in the dark of night
I stopped somewhere along the way .
It was a blank place with even more blank faces .
They seemed just as detached as myself.
There is a true beauty of being alone .
I haven't seen a familiar face in weeks .
But then again I haven't had the headache of having to pretend
I care either .
I thought about when I left.
There was comfort in the routine.
Knowing the misery would great me every day .
Knowing the name of every fucking asshole who drove me nuts enough to leave in the first place.
As I waited to pay for gas the prick behind the counter looked at me as though I was some sort of oddity .
Two six packs in hand I asked for a pack of Marlboro reds as well.
He looked at the clock .
Kind of early to be hitting sauce huh pal.
He asked me as he put the pack of cigarettes on the counter and rang the rest of my crap up.
His name tag read Mark.
I was just passing through but at least I had met one of the Kentucky chapter of assholes .
Well never to early to start a bad habit my friend I said as I paid the gas station Gestapo a fifty.
He held it to the light .
Just pressed it today bud I said.
Somebody has been passing fake bills around the area he replied .
Well when I run into somebody I will let him know your on the job .
You aren't from around here huh mister ?
He placed my change on the counter .
I didn't say shit I just walked out with my change and two semi warm six packs in hand .
I herd him say you have a nice day as I was heading out the door.
It was funny how people viewed others as if there life were some great pissing contest.
They thought there life's were good as long as there was someone else
to look down on.
Yeah I may be a fuck up but least I'm not like that drunken loser they would say.
I cracked a beer aimed the car for interstate and was headed anywhere but here .
Yes I lived in a shithole but least my shithole had cold beer .
I checked the mail everyday hungover feeling like shit probably looking just as bad.
The mail clerk always looked at me strangely .
How's the writing going ?
I had made the mistake one time of speaking to her one day.
She saw I was always sending out envelops to different magazines it was a small town what can I say she was a nosey bitch.
Well I'm almost making it I replied to her walking out the door.
It must be great seeing your words in print .
I don't know when they are I will tell you what it's like I replied .
I was standing at the door more than ready to leave get back home mix a drink and start my routine all over again.
She looked puzzled .
You get so many back surely you must get some things published .
There rejections they always are.
Aww come on you haven't even read them yet .
I'm psychic I don't need to read them.
How come you keep sending them out then if you know the result?
Well you see just like women turning me down I seem to never tire of asking besides if I badger them long enough just like a woman in a bar after a few drinks maybe I just might get lucky.
She just looked at me .
Well you have a nice day MR Robbins.
I left made my way home happy I could make the nosey bitch uncomfortable I never understood peoples need to know everything I loved my privacy I hated social networks there false bullshit happiness all on display it was like a store window all fake all fucking mannequins and fake smiles .
It was never reality besides who gave a fuck what you had for dinner !
I sat the mail on my desk or on that over crowded thing that I believe once was a desk .
Mixed a gin and tonic and began the self abuse that was reading rejection letters .
Most were the bland same shit .
Sorry to say no , We have to pass sorry and good luck .
One was a card not even a rejection slip these people were pros to bad the women didn't hand these out at bars .
Thank you for buying me drinks all night making crude jokes while staring at my tits.
Sorry to say not if you were the only man on earth and even if there wasn't a battery left in this world for my vibrator .
Now that would at least be good for a laugh I thought .
I got to the last one some little college paper known for there edgy bullshit .
Dear MR Robbins
We are happy to inform you on your recent submission to us.
We will be publishing your poem.
A Good Day To Feel Slightly Bad .
In next months issue of are paper thank you again and please feel free
to send us more work.
Goddammit I thought to myself.
Now how would I ever face the post bitch again knowing that I was a total fraud as a psychic.
Well either way I was always happy to be wrong.
I mixed another drink I thought about telling friends about my recent success.
Then I thought to myself.
I really didn't feel like making any today .
I never watch them leave .
You must remain a bastard to exist amongst the sharks.
But there's always the scars of a jaded mind to allow you the replay.
Dark nights always find me .
Where those memories reside the tomb stands in the cemetery I just seldom cast my view there anymore .
The fire never leaves you it remains to mock your current efforts.
And the great question seems far more right than wrong when dealing with the years of rejection.
I wonder am I alone ?
I wonder does the path run forever will my luck run out tonight ?
Kiss the wind as it casts embrace upon others.
Let the storms destroy them all and allow you to remain.
We are all locked within the asylum some just laugh to hear themselves think.
Old books give older answers to such simple questions .
Take her while she is waiting never think twice bout the moment .
A good bottle a darkened room.
I find solace in the silence .
Inside I'm always laughing to.
I lingred upon the edge as early morning and no replies have found a truth only the darkness can grasp.
Pills taken and hours spent the moment won't matter as it all is forgotten just the same.
In chased chords the tune clings to the heart if only I could do the same.
We saw the ending and now it is I whom stands alone.
They are all false truths were told the high so vast when you come down they will all judge you just the same.
I am a space taken and nothing more.
You played in the shadows and found the depths not shallow as you hoped it to be my dear.
We shared vices and nothing more
To you I say good riddance.
And a sincere fuck you!.
Why bury the past when you can allow those demons to run free?
Push it a little further and embrace the decay.
You probably won't be shocked when you hear.
Course you know what they say about opinions.
And a space will be available soon.
Once it was so fucking easy to connect.
We drifted as stranger's.
And now I a relic.
Stands part of something long forgotten.
Fueled by ego now drown in rejection they all leave you eventually.
Friends are nothing more than accidents waiting to happen I need only the critic to tell me I'm wrong to know something still is done right.
A theater of my thoughts tattered in a part of town long since overlooked by others stands all the same as I still remain.
My pages worn beaten exist with as much passion as they did so long ago.
Fruits of my labor now rotten none wish to consume.
Fuck what you know!
For even I cannot understand whom I truly am.
Trace the lines there still mine just the same .
I listened to the fools laughter at my expense thinking I have lost what we never choose to behold.
The sleeping dog simply waits for the chase worth while than runs to
do something simply to spend time.
I never left I simply waited .
Time choses the fate and I simply fill in the blanks.