There is only so much a man can write before he is someone else entirely. So leave him be while he is still himself. Run away.

Be like tides, adrift. Watching as the smiling moon rises, and as the sun in all it's glory weeps. For love without melancholy is nothing more than a joker's folly. Feel the highs and the lows that come and go, and know that you are not alone.

I play make-believe nowadays, pretend that I'm not alive. It's the only way I know how not to fear death.

Phantoms burnt prints into his bones, left behind marks and indications to let the world know of the vacant vessel he was abandoned with. A hushed physical being that never spouted a murmur of spirit. A vessel in need of a soul to split.

How strange, a man who could choose to love, but hated instead. Himself most of all. What a pity it was, but that's not what he wanted, right?
He wanted their forgiveness, not their pity. Forgiveness for not being enough. But they thought they saw right through him, they know his ways. And he would agree.
   He's a writer after all, he would say. It's in his nature to dislike himself to the point of ignorance. But when does an act become nature? When does this character he has created become apart of who he is? Or was it that way all along?

From time to time I happen across the things you say, and they make me giggle, they make me blush. Your humor gets me going and later leaves me numb and nauseous, like a slow rising roller coaster ride.
Knowing that none of it is for me brings me down when I'm staying up, and all I can hope for is that it ends someday.

I hope that someday my life will be filled with mistakes, mistakes that I had learned from, mistakes that I would not come to regret. I hope that someday I will be seen as someone who made a mistake and moved on, not as someone who had regrets and got left behind.

I would be lying if I said I didn't check up on you. In the zodiacs, in the memoirs in my room, in my dreams. I can't deny anything I had ever done to make you unhappy, but I can tell this truth right now, *before I go to bed.

I wholeheartedly wish you good luck in endeavors I'd rather you wouldn't attempt. I'm absolutely oozing with selfless insensitivity.

Some nights it feels like my soul is just shattering, and when I wake up the next day I'm just picking up the pieces.

When I was younger, just a child. I remember someone telling me that humans emanate the slightest light off the surface of their skin. At the time, my grandmother would take me with her to church to learn about the ways of god, his angels, and the devil and his demons. They spoke of how not a single soul could look at god dead on, that even the holy angels would be blinded from the pure evanescence. And at night when I would lay down, I would pretend that I wasn't so bad if I glowed, even if it wasn't as bright as god itself.
But as I grew older I made discoveries, that the blind once walked among the bright, but now have no choice but to stoop to the shadows. Losing themselves.  No one would let themselves shine. Humanity was stuck in a place I came to think of as hell, and heaven was deep underneath the layers of shadows and cracks. That god was buried within this concrete, under the soles of my shoes, and that the devil laid in the darkest corner of my pupils, and I came to recall that the devil is beautiful and bright too.

I don't forgive and forget. I forget and forgive. I forget the things that I had once done, and I forgive the things that are soon to come

Wind chimes rocked his baby bye to sleep, while the baby's mother laid awake and weeped. Scared she couldn't give that precious what he needs.
The baby's father kept a note to read, always gone, and never gets to sleep. The future and the past was all they held dear, they missed a baby's breathing peacefully.

A day out of the past are the days that seem like a dream. Please remember that things are unreal, but are also very very real.

A heat that keeps the chest warm, reminds of the days that hurt the most. They leave a feeling of distaste, but a curious cat walk trail has you lost in it all. A care in a world of apathy, the holiest of feelings in an unholy being. You look back on that trail, realizing that the warmth brought the coldest and most stagnant of days, you are frozen in time.

Each time I opened my mouth, it felt like I was speaking in vowels. A-E-I think you are an angel.

I opened my mouth and it felt like my soul was speaking in vowels. And what came only ever sounded a little like Y-O-U.

A sleepy lullaby to warm the soul. The sound of rain, and thunder in the distance, with echoes of the nearby church bell. The resonance of your world in a music box. "Keep it handy", he tells me, "When you need the world's help, wind up that little wonder like a heartbeat, and you'll feel like you're in a dream."

When you're hurt and don't know what to do. I can be your invisible man, You can ignore me and I won't ignore you.
You can keep me around when you're feeling down, and I'll be sure to know my place. You can pretend you haven't seen my face, that you don't even know me, like a brand new confessional.
Once I've lost my use, I'll leave you be with no excuse.

Now all is misery in the beauty of others, I admire their eyes and think of her. I admire the way they can make me laugh and think of her. I admire their passion and think of her.
I try my best not to hurt them and *I think of her.

I could call her my pretty baby, she could call me her fool. We could take a nice night out, keep our hands to ourselves and pretend that life was just a game, and we were it's tools.
God could take our hearts as a memoir of the night, crystallized, to keep pure and whole. Held in a pedestal, for all to awe at. And we could repeat that day over and over.
*That would be my heaven.

I am a very sad and tired little boy, with little to look forward to. Not  a birthday, not an adventure, not a curiosity.
Everyday I realize what I lack, or I don't.
I'm only taking what is given to me, and trying not to look back.

I may not remember the names of the songs we used to sing together. Regardless, I adored them as you did. And as much as you can deny now, they once belonged to us.

I often find myself wishing I would have appreciated how we held hands just a little bit more. How we used each other's shoulders as something soft to lay our cloudy heads on. How we would blink just a little bit harder each time we looked each other in the eyes. How we loved each other like kittens.

Half the battle is putting on my clothes and moving once I wake up, and the rest is simply surrender.

My vision of beauty may be distorted, but I can still recall enough of my innocence to know that you were absolutely beautiful.

A white room hues ocean blue as the sun rises, with a ceiling that screamed to be stared at on another sleepless night. But I continue to see her face like a constellation, and I grow weary, and I grow lonely.
These stars don't shine down on me, in spite of how beautiful they glow; they stared in a most disconcerting way. And I cannot wish upon them, I can only stargaze, and hope that someday they'll no longer gaze back.

Giving me the strangest dreams at night, as I look for her in a place where she could be anywhere in the universe. I'll always be looking, through every dream and every nightmare. Driven by nothing more then gears and bolts, a cold and calculating hunk of metal. **I've become a machine, and I've been designed a failure.

Crocodile tears, as they would say. Burn down my face, and burn down my life.
Want is a ***** desire, manipulation it's partner.
Leaving salted ground as a reminder of what's no longer there.
Unforgiving, and unknowing of what is right or what is fair.
My love, my life, myself. All lost in the gamble.

Here comes the policeman, tucking in his stomach, puffing up his chest. I play out what I'll say in my head, and try to clear the fear stirred up by a bad daydream. He calls to me, asks my name. I hand him my license, as I stutter at an  attempt to know what I've done wrong. He ignores me, and has me get out of my car. I try to keep calm, but it proved difficult, as I hadn't mentally prepared very well for this, and we've all seen the stories that always have been.
So I put my hands on my car and stay very still, but to my surprise I feel a slight sting as I graze the hood.
I was falling.

What had just happened? What was this eerie silence that filled the air? Why has this chaotic world suddenly come to a halt?
I began to feel sleepy after I struck the ground, a strange feeling of drowsiness and pain. Was I dying? There are lights, bright and obnoxious; I see one, no, two people lift me up, but it wasn't me. It couldn't have been me, because I was watching them go.

They were forgetting, they were leaving my life by the door.

*Please, come back.

I've dug myself a hole, deeper than that of my heart. It's cold sometimes, but it keeps me warmer than out there for the most part.
Sometimes I pretend I can't hear the wind howling above my head, the ignorance is bliss, but I can't pretend that the rain doesn't come, as I feel each. cold. hit.

Was I really speaking with her, or was this all in my head. Because it seemed like a fever dream, that wouldn't end. Like I was awake and asleep at the same time, stuck inbetween. But I'd only wished it was just a dream.

The scientists say it could all be a hallucination, but how real a hallucination can be.
*Real enough to hurt you.

Rigid, ugly, painful intervals of burning in the pores of my skin.
A rough sensation in my heart, I missed her more than I cared for my own life.
  At what point in time did my ancestors devolve me, when did my DNA first form this biological gap?

My instincts were supposed to protect me.

I feel the presence of you through the pain in my teeth, as I sing along to the song I used to skip just for you. It always makes me think of you even though you never wanted to listen to it. The sadness you felt when it would come on must have been left behind with me little by little each time I let it go by without you knowing. You left some sort of residue on your footprint, a brand. And someday when god looks upon my soul, he'll see it still, branded by the giant, for the silver and gold I once stole.

And it didn't keep me up at night, it was worse.
It made me fall asleep sooner, stay asleep longer.
The only place that was comforting to me was in my rolled back eyes.
Where the good dreams seemed like nightmares as I would wake from them.
And the bad dreams would be so peaceful as I died in them.

She calls and tells me she's discovered herself. She can no longer see me as apart of her future, this self she discovered, this self I always loved in every form, can no longer love me.

My edges were always rough, filled with mistakes and awkward shades. But I changed, I broke every bone in my body, stretched within an inch of my life, as I was sculpted by her.
And now I've turned into an abandoned art piece. Incomplete. Not even worth being a memento.

*So just throw me away.

They said that life is what you make it to my sarcastic statement, but tell me, when in the hell did I make it this way?

I see her face and try not to remember a thing on this devil's night. It feels as though I know her name and she's torturing me every last moment of silence.
God, know that I **** it all to  hell, it doesn't even feel real anymore. This fallen angel that continues to rain down on my dreams should no longer mean a thing to me.

If even only for a second things could seem clear, I would choke down every last drip and drop of alcohol in this unfreezing world.
Every last drag and hit of each and every intoxicating drug.
I would reveal every single one of my addictions through this shallow looking glass to inspect for the rest of my life.

Including this addiction and drug we call love.

I remember everything we ever said and did. We both had our problems, and we both made mistakes we sometimes couldn't take back.
I will forever hang every mistake I ever made over my head. Yet, the only mistake I could ever hold against you, was this.

Couldn't you have thrown me down just a little harder? So I wouldn't have had to bounce back, so I could have just cracked instead.

A road without road signs and faded paint, with ways that lead to every wrong direction. And we drove on that deep black ice throughout the night.
A dance that was no fun, and left a feeling of dissatisfaction, filled of bitter patterns. And god, it left us dying for water.
A recorder, with eyes that were too close together, and a mouth that would only open for a kiss.
The tape I played choked you up, and you died alongside me.
I had become what I never wanted to be.

No matter how many times I could write about you leaving, no amount of words could ever prepare me for it. I never knew what I would do when that day came, I put myself into so many scenarios. I suppose at least I no longer need to test myself.

The answer all along was nothing at all.
There was not a **** thing I could do.

Flashing nightlights outside the window, taps and bangs to keep her remembering throughout the night what she had sown.
Crashes that struck to the beat of her tired blinking eyelids.
Ground that for a moment was hotter than the sun, the thought of it made her feel alone. No warm touch to comfort her cold skin.
This storm would never end, would it?

It's sad to think about but the light comes and goes, and it's sad to say, but I always knew I'd wind up being in her shadow.

Maybe I can understand how you felt going back to that place now. That place that caused you such great pain even being near, so much that you wished all of the emptiness that it caused in your heart could be used as mileage, that way you would never have to stop.

Now that I'm surrounded by this shroud, this storm. I want to put thousands of miles inbetween, but I feel as though no matter where I ran to in this world, no one can ever escape their past.