Sometimes I wish I was scared of something other than losing you.
Lions, tigers, or bears.
But none of those things compare.

He stood there and wondered, could this really be it. The hell he so long feared. He was content as he gazed at the planes of his own torture, he laughed. As regardless of everything the devil itself had taken so much time on, it did not matter. He would become a fiend, and someday his tortured soul would reside nowhere. Therefore, his hell would become his long awaited heaven.

Worry was the name of the ones she loved. Ever since she was young, her eyes always gazed at her loved ones, even from a distance. She never stopped watching, and they imagined it was only her job, but it wasn’t. It was her gift.
Her name was protection, and she loved them very much.

More than beautiful. Godly, enough to drive a man blind and send him to something deeper than a physical perspective.
Enough to drive a man to live forever.

As we sat in the car, I sang a sad song.
You sat and thought about how the song had to be about you, and with my lips I sang of how terrible I was.

What you said taught me something. How passionately you claimed to not care for me, but yet how much you hated me, gave me something.
A passionate disposition for not being a good person, but something real.
A truly realistic human being.

I wish to see you one day, full of happiness, and not a single regret in your smile.
Being unnoticed, I would leave that memory of you behind like a flower I never picked.

I'm coming to realize that selfishness courses through the veins of others like a river of red, and I'm a foolish child flailing against that forever flowing current.

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

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.

We want the warnings plain as daylight, but I'm not sure they  can be any more obvious.
We want someone to tell us what they want, and what they feel, but I don't know if they can get any louder.
I want more, to provide more, to live more.
But I no longer think that I have anything left to give or take.

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.

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.

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?

I'm afraid in your search for god I'll only make the distance grow.
My mind is open to yours, the gates have been flooded.
I want you to be happy,
though, I don't know if I'm what's best for you, or your lord.
I pray for your protection because I love you, not because I'm god fearing.
I haven't been afraid to die for a long time, becoming a tortured soul for all eternity, or becoming subjugated to your lord in heaven.
What I'm afraid of is not living a full life before I go.
I'm sorry if that's selfish.

The air I breathe, gold and dreams.
You are everything I need.

Nothing else compares.

Through life and death, I know our love will be written on our graves, among many others, our love would never fade.

Kept through dirt, mold, and dust.
Come dawn, come dusk.

I'll always love you.

Even through the midnight insomnia, drunken, drugged up death binges, I still remember your face. Don't think I'm lying, I still remember the taste of the salt in your tears. Soaking up your hopes and fears, what had I become.

Your death.
Your wake up call.
Your very last piece of failure.

Goodbye.

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.

I shield my eyes from the sun peeking  
    between the arches and peaks.
Halve the leaves, green, red. Again.
    Halve them, yellow, orange. Fire in
     piles, split again and again.
not one hue of color left, only black
     and white.
Changed but the same.

You overlooked my past, made me feel something I haven't felt in a long time. All of the songs that brought me down, that I used to love, make sound
once again.
So I'll take all of the terrible things that have ever happened to you, and make them disappear.
All your fears and tears will never have a moment as long as I'm here.
It's what I was made for.
And you will always make me happy, I know it, it's what you were made for.

My friends all went around telling such happy aspirations for the new year to come.
Mine was to get used to being alone with myself, because in the end it always comes down to me.
And this New Year, I feel is going to be a lonely one.

Deja vu yesterday, I felt a weight. My thoughts don't betray.
Something was coming.
Someone in my family would be laid to rest.

I didn't know

It would be me.

Always wished they would die at the same time, always wished it would be painless for one another.
The next day in the newspaper an article arose, two dead in an accident, doctors say their hearts stopped simultaneously.
It was almost like a message to every lover who set out in this world, no matter how terrifying that moment could have been, it was reduced to nearly nothing when compared to being apart. It was ironic, they used something they feared deeply to find peace in such a petrifying experience.

It was beautiful.

My heart is beating,
Louder now.
It's like it knows it's,

Alone,
with me.

Soon, I wonder if
it will stop beating.

Why am I still up?
A combination of sadness and uncontrollable coughing.

If you knew me, you might think," Why the sadness? You have your family, you have the girl. Why?"

Well I don't know, but it feels as though my body does before I do, that I'm going to lose something. It's kept me up late at night. Coughing up a lung, my blood heats up, and goes straight to my head. I feel something coming.
But is it my gut, that's always right? Or my heart that steers me wrong..?

I can't tell..

The touch of her hand on mine, fingers clasped tightly.
Her arms wrapped around me, squeezing the life out of me.
Her lips, soft and light as heaven's touch, they part, and
God, you always sound like an angel when you tell me you love me.

I wish I'd remember when we argue, so I can change.
I wish I didn't only remember these things after we fight, maybe things would end differently.
I'm afraid one day it will be too late.

Please, never let it be too late.

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.

I don't know how I feel towards you anymore. I almost feel like I can hate you like you hate me, but something scratches at me, a million people tearing at my insides.
The naive highschooler, the little "man", the lustful *******, the vengeful ******* in me now, and the one that wishes you could just be okay.

I can't ******* figure out which one is me, was me. What I want for you, from you, or why it even matters..

I want to be sorry, I am sorry, but the vengeful ******* still screams ****** ****** in my head.
"It was all *******, she wants to believe she's any better when she used you. She wants to judge and not be judged. Blame you for everything she hates in herself."

I try to drown him out with noise, music, love.
But I can't stop the nagging that you were selfish, and even more so, you were entitled.
You've always been everything you hate in me, and now more.
A victim that always denies herself love.

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.

They say pain makes for great inspiration, but I would have given all of my inspiration to have never experienced this.

The sounds keeping me up at night, these imaginary sounds. Her bed moving, her lips smacking, those rough hands grazing her skin. God, don't let this thunderstorm end, or these sounds will drive me insane. Let me even be smite, burst these eardrums so that they may never hear again.

I've been staring at nothing for the past five minutes, I'm losing my mind, even though I'm alive. I'm just staring off into space..
I'm just a waste of space.

Smell of me in the back of your throat, gurgling and choking you up.
Picture blood rushing to the inside of your skull, baby. I'll give you an aneurysm faster than you can say," I'm d-."

I'll give you peace of mind.

What is a man made of?
My father made mistakes I swore I'd never make.
But now I feel like the man I never wanted to be.

Are all men doomed from the moment they're born? Cursed to be the means of their brethren, fathers, and grandfathers?

God, am I a failure in your eyes?
I need hope for the man I wish to be, but the look in her glossy eyes tells me otherwise.
I've lied through my teeth, God.
Before you, and before her, before my own mother.
I'm lost, Father, am I ******?

You are my Dante, you are my Vergil, you are my Beatrice, you are my devil. You are the spineless and endless tortured souls of men and woman who form horizons that never seem to end. You are the hung bodies in the trees of death, you are Cleopatra and Antony. In that never ending tornado of lust, cursed to spin and spin, conjoined in cursed love. You are the undeserving unborn who are tortured before they've ever even breathed dear life.

And I, I am only another accursed undead.

I remember you saying,"You're a good person".

Now the words you last spoke to me ring in my ears.
I deserved it, but does that mean I don't deserve to be happy
now?
Now that we're stangers, I wonder,"Did you ever really know me enough? Did I ever know myself enough?"

Looking out past that horizon. A mirage appeared, everyone he had ever loved. So distant, like sleep on a nocturnal night.

He can't fall asleep, his dreams call to him.

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.

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

When you get dealt a **** hand, and have no eyes to stare into along with an,"it's okay".
Remember that you can walk away. And you may not be the happiest you can be, but you can still be happy. And you can tell yourself that it'll be okay.

I am beside myself in bed.

I'm awake when I must sleep. I do not want to dream of you any longer,
I want to be there.

I'm starving though I must eat. I hunger for your breath,
I want to be there.

I'm alive though I want to die. I'm dying to get ahold of you, I want to be there beside you.

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.

I'm sorry to say you don't know me. You say I'm a good person, while I look you in those reflective eyes. Glossed to the point I can see my lies in your eyes.

We are our own scapegoats, fate is simply numbers and empty space. Love is a chemical, heartbreak is excess chemicals. The will to live, is only bullheaded stubbornness.

And it just so happens that the things that we fear are also the things that we love, and people are caused more pain by the things closest to them. I am the one that she loved, and I am the one that she hates.