If there is a God he’s not
In this room
Tonight it’s just me
And the moon
And you
The sky’s a bit brighter from your
Point of view
Tonight it’s just me
And the moon
And you
Wherever we may go you always
Leave to soon
But tonight it’s just
Me
And the moon
And you
Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC
I got drunk in class
For the first time this week
It wasn’t quite as fun
As I’d thought it would be
Now I have a headache
With an inkling of fear
Because I drank up all my liquor
And I can’t find my beer
Sep 27, 2021
Sep 27, 2021 at 5:21 PM UTC
The seasons are changing
The sun has gone away
He needs a vacation
It’s been a long day
It’s sunset in the city
It’s midnight my bed
And I can’t seem to stop your voice
From entering my head
Sep 21, 2021
Sep 21, 2021 at 9:54 PM UTC
It’s hot inside this kitchen
I bet it’s warm in your bed
I can’t seem to bar your voice from my head
So say hi to your girlfriend
I hope that she’s okay
I kind of wish I was her,
I think that everyday
I think I’m kind of happy
At least more so than I was
Lately you’ve been looking happy
So who am I to mess that up
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 2:32 PM UTC
Can you be sober and
Hungover at the same time?
I’ve been clean for five
Weeks and my head’s still spinning
How long does it take to find
Peace of mind?
There’s a war inside my head
I don’t think I’m winning
There was a treaty drafted at
Inpatient care
We both know that it’s
Just for show
These days my lungs have trouble
Finding air
And my legs can’t choose which way to go
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 2:29 PM UTC
The heat these past few evenings
Has me sweating through my sheets
Even inside it still feels hard to breathe
I’ll let my lungs fill up
With the fresh air of the morning
Until the day makes it’s presence known to me
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 2:26 PM UTC
I wrote this in the summer
It rained again here last week
The water droplets washed my sadness down a storm drain
And the sunrise brought a light I used to seek
I wrote this in the starlight
Constellations framing the ocean sky
The twilight zone a canvas brushed in silky black
A painting made for just you and I
I wrote this all alone
I kind of wish that you were real
It’s okay I have this guitar to keep me company
These six strings taught me how to feel
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 2:25 PM UTC
You used to hear a symphony.
The music soared in your ears, giving you a boundless feeling of happiness and innocence. You heard sunshine and fall breezes, starry skies and grains of sand. The music was constant, yes, but it was everchanging and entertaining and never drowned out what was around you.
Now, the bows that the string players carried have frayed, the reeds in the woodwinds have split, the brass are all battered and dented, and the percussionists finger's are sore and bruised. You hear barbed wire and sharp knives, ****** wounds and screams of pain. The music's drone overwhelms your senses, distracting you from your day to day. You can't think through all of this noise, the horrible retching sound of your brain. This song you made for yourself has fallen into shambles, and no matter how hard you try you can't remember the symphony you used to hear. The melody is fast and frantic, the rhythm slow and lethargic. Off-key and off-kilter.
Then one night, the cacophony stops.
One night, the music stops.
At first, you rejoice. You don't hear the sounds of suffering anymore. Your brain can breath now, and the pain you once felt slips off of you like water.
You begin to feel sad. You begin to miss the deafening roar of your own thoughts, convinced it wasn't as bad as you think it was. It was your song, after all? Why did it have to leave you? This is when the anger sets in. The bite of your words make even yourself wince as you scream into the void, "Why my music? Nobody has the right to take that away from me! It was my song, and it stung like barbed wire and cut like a sharp knife but it was mine! I get to say when it stops!"
Then you remember your role. You aren't an audience member, subject to the orchestra's whims; you are the conductor. You composed and directed this masterpiece, this wretched tune and with a wave of your hand the musicians stopped. They laid down their instruments, leaned back and prepared themselves for the silence. The silence, which was not sunshine or starry skies, nor was it ****** wounds and screams of pain. It was nothing.
It was silence.
Now you feel empty. You betrayed yourself and have to sit in silence for forever, the oppressive weight of the not-noise constricting your head and emptying your lungs.
But then the music starts up again. Slow, at first. Just the percussion, with the weak but steady thu-thump of a dying heart. Soon the rest of the band joins in. Weak, but alive, the music jumpy and peaceful. It's out of tune, yes, and the rhythm feels childish and uncoordinated, but it's your song, still playing.
It's never ending. Some days, you slump through it. Others, you skip. It sounds like storm clouds and flowers and rough seas and everything in between, and it is beautifully ugly. Disgustingly magnificent.
One day, you know that your song will end, and you are terrified of the silence, as black and as rough as charred wood. You know that all of the late nights spent bent over your desk, furiously writing the melodies, and the early mornings spent drunkenly playing an off key guitar will all be for nothing. You know nobody will hear your song except you. They will see a few measures every now and then from the way you walk, your sad smile, the glint of fire in your eye, the soft laugh you give when you're nervous, but only you will hear the glorious melodies, dismal chords, uneven tempo and quick bassline that accompanies the steady beat of your heart.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 8:06 PM UTC
I feel my life's a convoluted metaphor
complex and tedious and frankly a bore
It seemed smart at first but quickly degraded
a mess of thoughts after you've long been sated
now it's confusing and slightly infuriating
pretentious and sad, still lying in waiting
for a sweet release, a tidy written end
to this convoluted metaphor on which I now depend.
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 7:36 PM UTC
you just need a boy who can give you his world
I can't guarantee I don't feel like a girl
We'll break up and break down again
drowning the thoughts in my head
I just need someone who can see me for me
How can that happen, I don't know who to be
I'll get high to get by again
drowning the thoughts in my head
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 7:25 PM UTC