You are my drug,
And I'm about to overdose.

Everyday I wear a cross
But usually I forget why

I mean it's silly
A big man in the sky
Putting me through some hell
That people call life

I go to church most Sunday's
And ask for forgiveness
For things I intentionally did

I say a prayer each night
Just in case someone is listening
And during the day I'll randomly say
*******

But I guess when the bucket is kicked
I'll find out how stupid I am
Because right now it's late
And very dark outside

I love you, God
I'll talk to you tomorrow before bed.

I am very quickly beginning to hate the person I have become

And everyone around me is assuring me that I have every reason not to be loved

Even from myself

i always thought
you were thru traffic
that you were just jet lag
background noise
the kiss in the rain
i've never had
but what if you aren't?
what if this
was the thousandth time
i have loved you?
what if this is just a fresh coat of paint?
what if god
keeps a handkerchief
soaked in the day we met
next to his bed?
maybe theres a reason
i reach for no one in bed
the way i would
if someone used to be there
you know, they say
the road behind us
is littered with things
we couldn't hold onto
i wonder how many times
you've slipped through my hands
like hour glass sand
do you know
how much erosion you've caused?
i heard cupid
stopped keeping count
of how many times
we came together
just to come apart again
maybe it was just a rumor
it makes me think
about how many times
i've almost had you
like if all this talk
about history repeating itself
endlessly replaying is true
i wonder how many times
things have happened already
like the time
i tried talking you
into loving me back
back fired
or the time i could have sworn
jesus & lazarus were playing chess
with my heartbeat
but it was only you smiling
how many times
have i tried to tell you
how many times
have you read this poem
how many times
have i tried not to meet you
in my dreams anymore
it's like sleep tries to warn
me of what's happening
before it does but
i keep having this dream
where i tell you bedtime stories
and each one
is a different way you die
and in every one
i can never save you
it's like you're this song
i have on repeat
and every time it starts over
i forget the words
it's like you picked up the book entitled "us"
and the back cover
said you'd leave
so you never bothered reading it
tell me you aren't
going back in that bookstore
just to do it again
or will you tell me tomorrow?
or is this the time
you don't say anything at all?
if this has all happened before
if we call it quits
before we begin
again
from the beginning
i just want to ask you
to be my fire
because i am tired
of these old lives
and i'd like to see them
burn

Once there was a boy
Who became a cog when he entered the big machine
When he started to slow down and creak
They medicated him to keep him going
When he graduated with a Bachelor's he became a gear
And when he began to crack from the pressure
He considering protesting, but didn't because that's what it meant to be an adult
So when he finally snapped, people were surprised they hadn't seen the signs
And he spent three months in a white room
When he was released he sat on a stoop silently
No one knew whether he ever left it or slept or ate
Because no one noticed him
Except film students who would use him in time elapsing shots
So when he stepped in front of a bus one day
Only Jesus was there to stop him
And then he died anyway.

I am not
Scared of
                      dying

And I believe
That's the most
Terrifying thing
I have ever written

And yet it
Is the most
Powerful thing
About me.