It's just when you think you've done it
just when you feel you are finally ready
to put down the sad books
the slow melodic songs
the darkness that won't go away
It's right when you find a beacon
and have been using it for a while
That when you get close to it
The beacon turns off
and you don't know how you lasted in the darkness
without that little bit of light
to guide you through

the lights are off
and the city is cold
the bottles are empty
and the people are distant

the comforts of home are a dream
I miss the smell of you
laying in my bed
the thought
of the lines that make up your face
slowly drifting away  

These words are flowing yet again
and this time I know I'm lost in the darkness
moving away from the lake
away from the only lighthouse I've known

How readily one can push aside
the mere thoughts of great struggles
when someone else less deserving of them
is put on the line
When the trials begin to ramp up
and you don't think you can make it
I just want to be able to say
I stuck out a hand

Why is it that when the call ends
my mind is always blank
I can think of a thousand words
I'd like to immortalize you with
Some legacy to leave behind on this rock
But every time I'm close
to finishing the next line
The first line
It never has been good enough
Call me a writer right?
That means nothing to the one
who can't form a sentence of comfort
for fear of the truth falling out

sometimes changing the bed sheets
takes more work
than a year of university
sometimes breathing in air
takes more effort than
holding it together
sometimes being alone
even if its what you need
is harder than being happy

I hope it's beautiful where you are
That you can look up at the sky and not worry
These are trying times
And someone like you doesn't deserve that
You deserve the world at its best
What a rotten gift
Atop this blue marble
One of us sits and writes these words
And the other lays and reads
Seperated by a duty to betterment
Promises that a different man made
I hope you can look at the moon
And know I'm looking too
I hope you can feel this cool winter air
And know I'm shivering too
I hope you know that I'm missing you
And I hope that you are missing me

Ironic isn't it
The eyes looking back today
We're the same eyes I hate to look at
Ones filled with anger
With a hatred for those living
Harsh eyes
The smooth lines sharpening
The bags growing just a bit darker
More pronounced
The scowl slowly becoming permanent
I can't even say I wish this would stop
Because I didn't see it until the gallows
We're upon me
The noose drawn around my neck
You never notice the things you wish you never did
Until it's far to late
To even wish to change them

Here we are once again
the prodigal ******* son returns
these days were over
weren't they?
surrounded by people
huddled up in a corner
wrapped in on myself
to get any heat I possibly could
out of this rapidly failing body
I've reached the point in my life
where I'm not sure if this side of me
or the happy side of me
is the real one
To anyone
the happy side should be the real one
When I am the happiest
sometimes I find myself wishing I was here
where I am right now
Sometimes I need to let the darkness in the light
take me away for a little bit