Growing up you're always taught the dangers of substance abuse
but no one warns you of experimenting with love
I wouldn't say I have any weird kinks
but I do have a you fetish
There are few things that can't be fixed
by a coffee, and a couple cigarettes
The man is worried, uncertain, confused.
The boy is happy, curious, content.
I am sorry
Not to be shameful of,
to be alone.
lost in the fallacy of laughter and discussion
is the pride it takes to get yourself out of bed every morning
and feel better.
Let me take you
all of you
lose yourself in the background music and the messy sheets
leave your arrogance on the soft carpet with the rest of your bags
I'll give you the release you need.
I will have you for as long as it takes
A certain persuasiveness in the shape of her face
it takes few words from her;
"I am already yours"
you're mine aswell darling
I am myself
for better or for worse.
My eyes are my own
they've seen what I've seen.
My hair, scented with cigarettes and expensive shampoo
The grey has started to settle in.
Oddly familiar characteristics we may share;
although we've seen different things
our eyes look the same.
our hair, perfumed by the same stresses
Both having beared the burden of thinking to exhaustion
a plague and a gift, to think of him
I am like you,
Yesterday seems so far away,
I would have been different
To get back would be a cheap
and awful subrogation,
Leave the pain, back there
To the bone,
wanting so hard to be like that.
With nothing, and everything to prove.
Who are you proving it to?
The hearty rhetoric of old photos, and musty boxes of records.
I won't even dust off your old shelves,
too afraid to take a piece of you from my home.
the sky is boring when you're not here with me
the sun, although bright, is without luster
more than ever your memories do shine
the murmur of your tragedy is overwhelming
yet I find comfort in this solitude
Needing your wisdom, that's all.
To speak to myself is to speak with you,
Doing the right thing has gotten harder with age,
would you agree?
of course you would, the man who wrote music and smoked countless cigarettes,
my broken idol.
I'll sip on your sin
You can get drunk on my passion
Take me to that place I go to when I close my eyes
where the pillow is cold on both sides
the morning is always met with the smell of fresh coffee,
and when philosophy consists of acoustic renditions of my favorite music, and not the need to understand.
the most lovely reverie:
you, that delicate voice.
body, gleaming with the perspired idea of what love is
I think I'll join you
invariably trapped in your eyes
we could **** all day, leaving nothing on but an apprehensive guilt
that the other will leave once it's over.
I would have died for you
risked my life for you.
Fed you while you were sick
put your clothes on when you were weak,
listened to your stories with you
laughed at how they mirrored mine.
life had a different version of this story
and you died
and I died with you
for a while.
When I came out of it,
my hands were stronger,
my heart was warmer,
you were still gone.
with every breath you take I move deeper into you
the cadence of your heartbeat moves with my throbbing desire
the energy comes out of you with weak knees and a desperate etch down my spine
Let the rain patter against the window,
or the light snow fill the cracks in the old brick
lay your head down next to mine
my arm protects the back of your neck from the cold wooden floor
as naked as we are, we've never felt more protected.
Put that playlist on;
the one you like.
Your chest against mine
we share a heartbeat
I can count the freckles with my tongue.
How alive you are right now.
it's a kiss, a touch, a lick
it's this moment we have right now so
let's not waste a second
Make love until the room smells like *******,
and your rich vocabulary is reduced to
the sense of gratitude when the sun comes down.
No longer can the birds look down on me
roughly the amount of times in the day I think of running away from all of this.
Down from 27
so much to do at night,
coming to heart-rending conclusions about mortality.
how many hours have been spent worrying
the life I could have saved, so caught up in my engrossed state of mind
maybe happiness would have gone neglected if life had always been easy
that's what I tell myself anyways.
No matter the time
The place, or the weather
I’ll be with you, and love you...
And just as the oxygen left my lungs,
The flame died.
A difficulty to love,
a difficulty to breathe.
Two things that should be so easy are near impossible
when you're stuck
in a pitied state of uncertainty
To feel wanted
A forgotten dream
In my nature to want.
A man can wish, and he does.
Never expecting to find what he is needing.
How easily remembered this feeling,
Like it never left
A fresh breath you’ve given me.
I am drunk on desire,
To feel wanted.
What a waste it would be to leave people feeling unwelcome in an environment they could flourish in.
To have my moment with you,
Press your warm body to mine
Your ******* get hard while we kiss
I watch you smile
while your hair drapes over your eyes.
I work my hand towards you
The goosebumps on your skin tell me you're nervous.
You know what you want this time around,
Fervently help my fingers inside of you
For this moment, you consume yourself in me
I slide into you, now it's me that smiles
You toss your head back slightly, deep breaths
My five fingers wrap beneath your jaw,
You hold both hands on my arm as we expect
the inevitable release.
we look into each other
knowing that for this moment, we made the right
A nerve was struck,
the erratic behaviours of a young mind so quickly shifted into adulthood
crowded with frantic and mindless jargon only a deeply pained individual could ever understand.
An inevitable desire to seek solace is the plague that sickens me.
I'm not addicted to smoking I'm addicted to over thinking
the cigarettes just help
Let me hold your hands
behind your back
as I ****** the life back into you.
How tragic it is
The smartest one in the room,
reduced to being fed by a tube.
A shimmer of hope hid in the corner of the room,
along with our jackets, cold from the autumn wind.
You wrote to me with a stick, moving around the pebbles
"I love you"
The first time in 5 months, and the last time you ever truly were
My eyes disguise the pain I feel
An endless spiral of self deprecating thought
Stuck in my internal hell
The worst part is everyone thinks I'm okay.
Don't be surprised when I appear hollow,
when my mind encroaches on my life
a deep sadness I find hard to escape.
To be a man of character is to have felt,
to have lived beyond the pain, learned from it
My preoccupation with feeling happy has taken away from the life I would like to live.
A life where my energies are focused on the things around me,
rather than what's inside me.
Everyone has a personal hell, and I acknowledge that.
But, mine burns hot, the kind of heat that can make your breaths short, and your body exhausted.
It will be a long and difficult journey to become who I want to be,
but it will come,
To assume the role of the father
To assume the role of a partner
Expecting so much from such a little
That boy will try though,
He will make dinner, he will talk with them about their problems,
but we can't forget his own
Another child was mean to him today, they all have been recently
He might cry in the bathrooms , or on the bus ride back from school
But he will not cry at home.
They need him to be more than a little boy
They need a partner
and a father.
They need more than that boy,
but he is all they have
He will have to do.
You search your whole life for something that only exists in fantasy, deaf to the whispers of life that surround your being.
I’ve woken up from dreams that gave perspective on my nightmare, to think and feel as if there is an answer.
Countless nights ,
Plagued by an unforgiving hand,
served, not dealt.
this was not a matter of misfortune
It was clear the older he got
he would need to develop strengths he hadn't had before
Like understanding to hold back those tears,
no matter how painful
no matter how angry he was
It was not fair, he thought
it was not fair.
It was only when he became a man did he realize that nothing was fair
It was only when he became man did he realize he could cry when he was sad
It was only when he became a man did he realize he was robbed of childhood
When he became a man
he laid down in bed
and although he was not yet done
He had no nightmares
he had not a need to cry tonight
and he had no
— The End —