I made a film last night about a man
who hates  neckties—silk, cotton,
and bow.  It is a documentary
of sorts,  that reveals  his
drawbacks, peccadillos,
discrepancies, lies,
and misdeeds.

I am the only character, me,
you can not watch it.
Never.   It is mine
to slowly edit,
and wallow
as I view.

you are teetering on the edge.
edge of brilliance,
insanity.
something so wonderful,
so terrible.
something that people devote
their whole lives to
putting into melodies
and words on paper
that make you want to weep.
you are numb on the outside,
but once the shell crumbles
you are a mass of fear and loathing,
stuck running endless circles in your mind.
but there is also hope.
hope, mixed with curiosity
that tinges your cheeks pink,
draws you out of bed
at the crack of dawn every morning
and keeps your heart beating
with the ferocity of someone determined to live.

I woke up with a pain in my chest
I woke up wanting to scream
I woke up with your name on my tongue
I woke up and I couldn't breathe

My tears fall
As I have fallen for you
I don't hate you, not at all
Can't we start anew?

I don't think i ever will
Stop loving you
From late April until
My heart stops aching for the moon