Always thinking of the people to come
Who will be unconsciously affected by my ghosting traces of life
Never stopping to think of the ghosts
Which surround my pacing feet, and flexing lungs
With each step they take, and breath they gulp

I live with all the women I've broken
in a cottage in the country
and in the evening we drink tea.
We talk sometimes of love
but mostly we speak
of how much we hate me.

Your eyes they flutter
Like butterfly wings
When closed they blend
To the same tan as their background
But,
When opened
They shine a brilliant blue
And throw me off

Blurred images
Hazy edged pictures
Images with burn holes 
Things to see behind
Clouds of lingering sleep
This is the first time in awhile
I've actually felt okay
The world is still moving to fast 
And me too slow
But my mind has a window
So I can see and hear 
Though my throat still 
Struggles for sounds
My hands form letters
That form words
That form phrases
My thoughts on pages 
My feelings on paper 
My soul wrapped into words
That will never be spoken 

These are my own words written by someone else, hope you guys enjoy my first poem in a while, things are actually improving. If im lucky i'll survive -Andy

I want to live, not just survive

-Angel With a Shotgun, The Cab