Drugs and alcohol never gave me the buzz I wanted them to.
But I'll keep taking them anyways.
Only because I want to.
I just don't want to feel like in order to play the keys or write out my mind.
Even if it means retraining myself to focus on something else.
Sometimes I wonder if I'd be a drunk like my father if I were anymore blind.
And I guess the answer is yes.
And I think now is the time to wake up from my rest.
Before I start to forget.

You took us from our beds so that we may heat yours.
An act which in moderation we were always happy to carry out.
But your greed was too great
Your burn what took a millennium to build.
So now we will burn your world.
And many of you will cast blame on us.
When the truth of the matter is the shame should be yours to carry.
Because you see hell was our home.
So when your world is covered in ash and smoke.
We will once again be home.

You're the kind of person that makes me want to lay around listening to Hendrix and Clapton while we talk about who we want to be.

You make it hard for me to write you poetry.

I  feel like the only way I could tell you what I mean is through the strings of a guitar or on the ivory keys.

Because words aren't enough to make sense of what I see.

I've lost a lot of love and passion.
I replace it with pretending to laugh.
I think too much, but I feel like I act too little.
But I don't know what more I can do.

I don't love her.
But I know she loves me.
I don't know how I will get there.
But I know where I want to be.

I'm fine my life is good.
I worry much more than I should.
I think I'm just scared of what's next.
I'm young though, I still have a lot of nexts to go

Like the fire spitting from the tip of my lighter.
Like the way it feels every-time I write a new chapter.
Like when I finally let go of the things that made my mind tear.
Like the passion of the girl with the white flower in her hair.
You see intensity is not new to me.
If anything it's addiction that has since become a part of me.
But tell me what's wrong with living a life that actually makes me feel **alive.

Isn't life beautiful.
How one minute you're taking off your lovers shirt wondering how you two will make it work.
And the next you wake in some new girls arms and you wonder why your head reminds you of a drum.
Isn't life wonderful.
How one minute you're writing ****** poetry to people who don't know your name.
And the next you have agents reading over your first book deciding whether or not they want your soul.
Isn't it life amazing
How one minute you leave your home to a place where you feel alone.
And the next you realize you feel more at home there than laying in your own bed.
Isn't life exciting.
How one minute you can be madly in love.
And the next you realize that you can't really love someone else until you love yourself.
Life is something.
Isn't it?

This is all I can think of as I lay in the bed I grew up in.
Home to visit the few friends I kept.
But how can I call this home?
I gave up this place, I've spoken out on my hate.
And already its starting to get late, but I can't close my eyes.
Because if I fall asleep those mountains might move and block my escape.
And my family keeps telling me that this town is my fate.
But I believe I can be more. I have to be.
Because right now laying in this bed I grew up in.
I just feel like a puzzle piece **that doesn't fit.

People seem to forget they can't steal from me what I could never own.
She'll leave you with broken bones.
While I stand above you and offer a shrug as I say, "I told you so."

Lets dance over the phone to different songs.
Lets be drunk criminals and vandalize some condemned house.
Lets forget the fact that you graduate two years before me.
Lets be stupid together.
Because every-time I try to be smart, to think things like this through.
I always end up watching them break.
And I'm not saying we won't.
I'm just saying lets ignore it till we have to.
And then wake up the morning after with no regrets.
Just like the first night we were together.

Living isn't really living if you have nothing to live for.
Living without living for something is just surviving.
Breathing air and getting nutrients don't feed who you are.
Only what you are.
And in my life I live for many things.
Some I still live for.
Others fade away in time.
But in the end its all life.
And one day we won't have it anymore.
So maybe for a few months at least we could all stop just surviving.
And try to start living.

To often I feel like the stress of life gets the best of me.
Whether it's work that needs done or bills that need paid.
That's the stress I can deal with though.
The kind I can throw on my back and carry till it wastes away from my mind.
But lately I've had a stress of a different kind.

Sometimes I wish I could just say what I feel.
And that others could do the same.
And that acceptance and forgiveness weren't so rare a thing.
And that pretty girls with blonde hair weren't so **** confusing.

People use Love like a drug.
To get high off of someone else like they were made just to pleasure you.
And too often I see innocent hearts taken and broken because they don't understand.
And I have to admit that I've been on both ends, and I can say assuredly nothing will ever stop it.
I can offer some advice though, if you could call it that.
Define yourself by your passion.
Not those who you are passionate for.
For you are not them and they are not you.
You are not two half's to a whole, but instead two whole's to a team.