You do this to me
every time
the winks
your hand brushing
my waist

You know I can't
the time for us has
left us
we need to find
normalcy between
our feelings

I'm not gonna lie
sometimes I want to
and you break my heart
a little bit every time
you say those words to me

I've stopped counting
the chances I've given you
and you squandered them all
now there are none left to give
now I am with another
now I am trying to live in my present
but not forget our past
now is when you choose to act

and yet, are you really?
drunken whispers in my ear
the secret I love yous
before you return home to
your girlfriend
whom (as you've reminded me)
you don't love

I love my boyfriend
and while I will always have
hidden feelings for you
I could never trust my heart to you
like I do with him
he is warm, comforting, and safe
you are drama encompassed

You need to let me go
because I can't keep doing this
you keep cracking my heart
please see that you have exhausted me
please just let me be happy
I will not cheat on him with you
I will not leave him for you
I just want things to be normal again
But I don't think you'll allow them to be

Two boys, two shots, one boy, one body, no time to cool it.
One car, two cops, two guns, one bullet.
Trigger squeezed back, brains pushed out.
Everyone only asked why'd he have to take that route.

Rewind back four months, one black eye, one arm break.
Rewind back two weeks, seven bruises, one scrape.
Fast forward day-of, ****** nose, swollen lip.
He finally snapped, went home, no class, just skipped.

As he got home, he headed straight for his dads glock.
He knew the nine millimeter was in a closet in a box.
When he gripped it, thoughts hit him and his mind started slipping.
The thought of simply scaring someone completely went missing.

2:30 pm, outside the school he was waiting.
Impatient and nervous, in his head he was debating.
With his choice made, he walked to the school to put the gun in the trash.
But as he turned he got hit with the force of a crash.

One chuckle, many tears, one turn, one sound.
As the bullied stood up the bully went down.
Drowning out the sound of screams, sirens drew near.
His mind cleared up, and he panicked from the fear.

Two doors opened, two closed, 3 guns held, 2 hands shake.
At the moment his mind closed, he saw only one choice to take.
Two cops, one voice, "Stay calm and put the gun down."
But he panicked, raised it, then whispered "My life's all over now."

BANG!

I look for you in everyone
Nay, I see you in everything

I see you in every empty seat
I see you in blur every time I blink
And even when I close my eyes,
I still see you

You're the ghost inside my head
And no matter how fast I run,
I can't save myself

There are some evenings…

You just happen to tilt you head back and dusk is already right in front of your face.

Sometimes it’s just you, sometimes, some dude taps on your shoulder and while pointing straight upward he goes “Hey…look at that!”

And of course you’re gonna look, ‘cause what’s to see is just not real.

The sun is suddenly more than a big ball of flaming gas, the clouds more than some vapor. This red hot blood spread across the sky seems to come right from your veins.

You gaze into this huge scenery and you realize that it’s taking everything away. No more endless commute to your office, no more ******* for your missing pencil sharpener, no more reports, boss, todesangst… ****… for what it’s worth girls don’t even have ***** anymore.
Right that moment, it’s all burning along with the clouds and slowly sinking.

Then you just have enough time to blink twice and it’s dark already. Daddy Sun is gone to his other family.

You’re still there though, staring at nothing, feeling your existential mess creep back up your spine, cramped between the pencil sharpener and some girl’s *****.

What are you supposed to do then?

You’ve just been the enlightened Zen monk from the movie for a full minute, and now papa’s gone home, you’re back to your old whiny self. **** it up.

How are you supposed to return to your everyday’s plasma screen craving and internet **** when you feel you’ve just been dumped by the Sky itself?

I mean… how are you supposed to survive a sunset?

Different ways to go, so many
things to ***** a life, make once
that beat no blood to flow, spoilt
for the ways to end. to go out quite,
to go with a splat make it public
or in secret not found till I am
just bone.

I go through the pros and cons
of which way to go. a bullet is
quick, gone to fast to feel the
pain as my skull and brain
paints the wall. But what if I
pause, and I shot the side of
my face off, blind unable to eat
with out a straw, scratch that
off my list a shudder down the
spine the gun goes into its locked
draw.

Then there is the rope, from a tree
or a height as long as my feet don't
touch the floor. the Pros again quick
and cheap a snapped neck I'm gone
here no longer anymore. But what
happens, if the neck doesn't go crunch
and I'm suffocating for a life time
dyeing in pain my feet a centimetre
off the floor. No I think that is the
wrong way to go.

I go through the cons and pros so many
ways to go, this is giving me a head ache,
my head feels like its going to explode,
its better to keep my feet on the floor.
To many errors to make, ill just go in
my own time, as it could be tomorrow,
really I should cherish my life and not
try to stop the beating of my heart,
what was I thinking as I go about my
life once more.

There exists
such a distorted need
to be inflexible and stagnant
Not allowing change...
Dangerously
Coming close to becoming
a "caricature of our former glorious selves"

How sad...
that it happens…
but even worse …
that it still does not
ignite change.

It must be agonizing
To be driven by the fear
of appearing weak
or too radical
or loosing  perceived powers
or social placements.

Suffering through spiritual implosion
dreading condescension
or rejection.
By peers
let alone
From a creator
That they barely believe in…

I wish there was
really
something I could do
to help.

A vicious war is waging between two groups
The pink and the blue cannot be pacified
Just because one pink is too loud for her own good
But that's no excuse for all this bloodiness
Yes, people make mistakes
Especially pinks, when they ***

There's a dark side to the blues
A side that scares not the pinks
But the other colors in this crayon box
A side that is foreign and is verging on evil
This little pink right here is fed up of this madness

It's either we learn to mix our colours
To create a beautiful myriad
Or we all clash together and end up
With a torn crayon box and broken crayons
It's the battle of the sexes
And it doesn't look like it's ending anytime soon