step one.
you close your eyes.
you close them tight.
then you press your palms
against your
closed eyelids,
until
you start seeing red spots that remind you
of a song you wrote
for someone so long ago.
that someone doesn't matter anymore,
not really, so eventually,
neither will he.

step two.
you wear a nightgown.
the one with the lacy v neck, the one
that exposes your thighs,
the one with the vintage roses.
you wear it to bed to remind yourself
that you don't have to wear his attention
like a perfume
to feel ****.

step three.
you listen to those songs.
you know which ones.
you listen to them and sing or rap along
until your throat is sore, until
your chest hurts. do it
until you don't know why you're crying,
then write a song about why
you are crying,
so that when you look back,
you can see that it doesn't matter.
heartache fades.

step four.**
dive into a body of water in only
your under garments.
force yourself
to swim,
no matter how much
you want
to drown.

OK, I get it, you still think of me
But we're not gonna connect
It's too messy
Two old soldiers of love
Who are still looking back
But our lives have moved on
So why the heck should we talk?
We're not gonna be together again
No way, we both see no future
In regards to our past
Just warm memories that forever will last

Life, love and war are not fair
You just grin and bear it
You take it from there
Make the best of today
Ruminate, reminisce
But when it's over, it's over
It's the goodbye kiss

I think of you often
I know you know
You think of me too
We sure we're close
So in my thoughts you will always be
But the way it was will never again be

i am standing beside a hole where a soulless body lays
afraid to peep inside
of who it might be
staring back
into my hazel eyes
could my innocent youth be harsh-fully swept away
if it was my mother whose eyes id have to face?

i am standing beside a hole where a soulless body lays
where my ears start to ring with echoes of heavy sobs that soon shred into weeps
whose funeral might this be?
was it possible that my late night bawling to god, to place that husband of hers under the rug, had finally been done?

i am standing beside a hole where a soulless body lays
when my mind immediately hits the ***
might this be the ceremony
to sendoff ,the person with whom i shared my soul?
might the bag of deceased bones
belong to the person
death was too afraid to take,
because of the ecstasy we both did generate?
would this ceremony actually be, my worst nightmare to come true?  

i am standing beside a hole where a soulless body lays
i am suddenly held hostage inside my own brain, forced to see all the nights id been swept away,
under the wings of insomnia
where id been dipped into a deception
making the sky seem like perfect company, in a romantic way
and the moon my dearest friend, in the best of ways

i am standing beside a hole where a soulless body lays
im fed up of being at this ceremony
i now want to leave
the place however
starts to fill with mobs
and never ending sobs
i see my parents greeting guests
and i see my best friend trying hardest to not break
for gods sake whose loss is being grieved in this hollow place
i stumble as i walk upon the open grave
filled with angry puzzles to piece
tears of all these eyes are by now enough, to create an ocean inside this place
an ocean however that i can not cleanse myself in to be saved

i am standing beside a hole where my soulless body lays
and soon i start to realize
ive been a tourist in my own grave

cigarette butts
stained red
from desperate lips
dust her feet
from the ashes
drifting down from the tips,
where they flicker and burn
at the point they've been lit
by shaky hands of a woman
who can't give up
and quit

knuckles bruised blue,
bits of bone showing through
her head hurts from voices
telling her what to do
noises screech loudly,
she hears something new
then she takes her own life
when no one has a clue

These parts feel like a lie I am giving to this world,
but it doesn't throw me back a sneer,
it pretends it doesn't know.

I am carving my skin with questions,
but it bleeds back no answers,
only trophies in the shape of these scars.

I am clawing myself out,
but the pit feels like quicksand,
the more I want out the more it takes me in.

I am half a person, half a ghost
already burying myself
inside the casket of my own skin.

If these gods were real
they'd have made us of sturdier stuff
than hearts that break apart at the slightest whisper.

Anesthetized and scoured clean, my mind reflects these halls
Of almost-forgotten ***** spills and madness within these walls.

Artificial sleep,
Restless, blood-shot pits;
Reflections, dark and hollow,
Echo visions in raving fits.

This place is said to heal - return sanity from whom it's fled:
Ammend the twisted, save the wretch, cauterize what's bled.