If I'm to believe in a higher power,
then every second feels like an hour.
When it's spent away from you,
heaven seems plastic and untrue.
But if Gods are a delusion,
then you'll pardon my intrusion.
There's no plan, no we, no "one".
Without love, my soul is gone.
Yet, if this cosmos was designed,
there is a port I have to find.
But if it's simply chemistry and dice,
then my heart can live on ice.
Wake me up when we can travel in time,
when we can turn our blood to wine.
And if you could be mine,
that would be divine.
Is there a God?
I don't know, I haven't met you.
Nothing makes me angrier
than when people tell me not to worry.
Oh! Of course! Just because you told me not to,
all of my anxiety has disappeared!
Just like that, you "fixed" me!
How many times will I have to say,
It. Doesn't. Work. Like. That.
You've never had a boyfriend before
and have a huge crush on this guy?
Don't worry! Just ask him out, of course he likes you.
(Why would he, no one ever has before,
if he likes me why won't he ask me out)
This is your first boyfriend and you've
never kissed anybody before?
Don't worry! It's easy, all you have to do
is lean up and kiss him!
(Oh god, I want to, but it doesn't work like
that, I freeze up and smile awkwardly and
the moment passes)
You haven't seen your boyfriend in two weeks
and haven't had one real conversation in that time?
Don't worry! He is just a horrible texter.
(He wasn't always, something must be wrong,
he must want to break up with me,
maybe he's too chicken to do it himself and
wants me to break up with him)
Don't worry!
While I sat across the table from your crooked smile and elegant eyes as you continued to sip at your coffee, I attempted to entertain you with another one of my strange stories. And with the conclusion fell an consuming silence, the kind of peaceful silence shared between lovers on Sunday afternoons, the silence that is found when your eyes lock and the only thing you can think of is their beauty and how lucky you are. I shifted awkwardly in my seat when I realize you were looking at me with those same eyes and we having those same thoughts. I played with my straw sifting the ice in my glass; breaking the silence with what seemed like the sound of crushing & crashing that occurs only in an avalanche.
It’s been 1856 days since we last spoke, 5 years and 29 days that I have spent without your presence, It terrifying to think that have been gone that long. The death certificates said that it was a suicide, and if you read between the lines that means that you not only gave up on life but also on me. May 21, 2008 haunts me daily. You are the ever present ghost that speaks to me in my dreams and regardless of how it ended, your first love always lingers within the seams of your thoughts. You recall or recollect every kiss and long embrace and morn of all the time you allowed go to waste. The night that you passed away I caressed my own lips hoping to savor the taste of you. But in the end it is what it is and though you are gone we still live on.
We sell two albums on itunes if you search loud with love
someday soon baby
your levee will break
all you'll be left with
is a big old mistake
someday baby
it wont be like this
your ocean will come up
like it already did
someday soon baby
it wont be like this
everything will change
its what time permits
someday soon
we will carry on
our beds
carry us on and on
someday soon
it wont be like this
everything gone
at the flick of a switch
i hope you carry on
the fortunes of your day
i hope that theyre well
thats what im here to say
if i cant have you now
bet i wont at all
someday soon baby
we will carry on
and someday
it wont be like this
Your box.
Tis' small and insignificant.
Once it was huge.
Didn't even fit on the shelves!
But now.
That box, your box, has shrunk.
You are the cause.
For leaving in my time of need.
You my dearest, you are done.
They say that it gets easier with time.
They say eventually I won't even think of him.
They say that I'll be whole again, I just need some patience.
But with time, it's only getting harder.
With every night that passes and he isn't here,
He isn't holding me,
Or talking to me,
Or giggling with me.
He isn't doing that with me,
He has her for that now.
It's been two months now,
When is eventually?
I still think of him with every waking second.
I still think about the unexpected kisses,
The holding me at night,
The smell of his skin against mine,
Whether we were just hugging,
Or we were cuddling at night, hoping that sleep would never reach us.
I still remember every conversation,
And how he said rum, instead of room.
And how he hates people on bicycles.
Whole again?
The only time I was ever whole was when he was around.
It was only when he would pull me in his lap,
Or when he would smile,
And the lines around his mouth and eyes would show.
He made me whole.
He was the missing piece.
And he is gone now.
So tell me, when an I going to be whole again?
When are you going to be right?
Because I can't live without him,
The only thing keeping me alive is,
My best friend,
And the memory of how it use to be with him.
I love you Micah Elijah Garcia.
Time keeps slipping away.
And we watch it fall into the abyss.
Forever lost.
So we think.
The silence is here now.
Have we hit our target?
Not yet.
My insanity keeps me awake at night.
Insomnia becomes so routine.
Where dreams become just fragments of memories…
The streets are still hot from the summer’s day.
And I can’t help but still feel so cold.
Mrs Milton became concerned
when Benedict slipped
and cut his wrist on the beach.
How did you do it? she asked,
fussing over him like an old hen.
Slipped on the pebbles on the steps,
he said. She looked at his wrist,
blood seeping, the handkerchief
he’d tied around it soaked red.
Best get you to the hospital,
she said. Her brother-in-law
drove them to the nearby
hospital and a nurse (some pretty
girl who oozed sexuality like a gently
squeezed lemon) washed and stitched
the wound up and bandaged it with
her gentle hands. Mrs Milton was
silent in the car back to the beach;
she stared out of the window, muted.
That night in bed, after an evening
of few words and cold stares, she said,
I saw the way you looked at that nurse,
taking in her figure, watching her hands
all over you, your eyes out on stoppers
each time she bent over you, her breasts
pushing against the cloth of her uniform,
reeking of some very cheap perfume.
Benedict laid there, his bandaged hand
over his chest and gazed at her.
She was nursing me, he said, that’s
her job. I was just looking at her working.
Mrs Milton, who was lying beside him
turned and stared. Doing her work?
She was almost molesting you; I saw her
with my own eyes, she said, spittle on
her lower lip. That’s ridiculous, he said,
she was just going about her nursing,
cleaning the wound, stitching me up,
bandaging the hand, that’s all. All?
she said, there was nothing all about
that girl, she’d have had you in that bed
working you off given the chance and if
I hadn’t been there, I dread to think
What the heck might have happened.
Benedict sat up on one elbow and frowned.
Are we talking about the same thing?
You were with me in the hospital while
a young nurse stitched up my hand; that is all.
I was there all right, she said, getting out
of bed and standing by the edge, I saw a
young bitch trying to get off with my man.
It ought not to be allowed to happen,
she said, hands on her hips, her faded
blue night dress failing to hold in her
40 year old breasts. He sat up, shook
his head. I’m not surprised your husband
walked out on you, Benedict said. He didn’t,
I kicked him out, she said. I bet he was
glad to go, he said. She was silent and got
into bed and pulled the covers over her.
How’s your hand? she asked. Benedict
looked at his hand. Painful. Much? Stings
more. Maybe if I kiss it better it might be
better, she said, childlike. Might do, he said.
She kissed the bandaged hand gently.
Yes, feels better already, he said.
She switched off the light. There was
an owl far off. A movement of the bed.
It's because you don't see your perfection.
You don't take the time to,
At least, try and see what others see in you.
You never try and figure out why they are jealous.
You would prefer to sit there and stay confused.
You have the figure of a Goddess,
And the mind of a genius,
But you would prefer to look past that for a few flaws.
People tell you,
"You're gorgeous"
"I wish I looked like you"
And you get that all the time.
You get the compliments,
You get the attention,
You get the jealousy.
You get it all the time.
I tried to save you,
I tried to make you see the beauty in you,
The beauty that you not only have on the outside,
But the inside too.
I know that's a cliche from somewhere,
But it's completely true.
You tore straight through me
And left my bloodstains on the ground
Bleach won't be able to cleanse what we left behind
And neither will time
What you've broken is irreplaceable
Irreparable
and done for
There's a shark in the ocean
And darling, it's you
I'm dead in the water
I'm dead without you
Our fight much like a war
And the battleground our psyches'
Words I never said
Couldn't be taken back either
After the battle has ended
And our screams have faded
We are left
with nothing but
Silence
