MY HEAD IS A TWISTER IT
SWEEPS UP EVERYTHING
I CARE ABOUT AND DEST
      ROYS IT DISPLACING
        EVERYTHING AND
          MAKING A MESS
             WHY ARE MY
                THOUGHTS
                SO DESTRUC
                  TIVE WHY
                    MUST IT
                    ALWAYS
                    HURT TO
                     EXIST I
                      HATE
                       THE
                       TOR
                        NA
                        DO
                         TH
                          AT
                           IS
                           M
                            Y
                            M
                             I
   ­                         N
                            D

2am
I'm addicted to heartache
The kind that rips you apart inside
Leaves you shaking
Tears streaming down your face

3am
The moon bright in your eyes
Sparkling behind the moisture
Sobs wrack my body
The stars seem to be falling from the sky
This feeling is what I know best

4am
All is quiet
The night doesn't make a sound
Theres nothing left to come out
Tears have dried
And my mind is numb
I feel nothing
Hollow and empty
This feeling is all too hauntingly familiar

5am
The morning approaches
And I am still awake
Staring at the wall
Nothing left

6am
Time to get up
Plaster a smile on my face
Smear concealer under my eyes
And pretend like those dark circles aren't there

9am
Everyone is oblivious
But I know
That tonight
I'm going to go through it all again

there will only be two things that will happen to you:

either you end up in my poems of heartbreak, remorse, and sadness,
or,
you end up beside me with my hand in yours.

morrissey said "to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die" and donnie darko said "every living creature on earth dies alone"
and maybe we're thrusting ourselves ourselves into the unknown
but from what i know the birds tell us stories with their wings and the sky is a lot more beautiful than his hands ever were to me and the overgrowth in the woods holds more passion than my eyes do some nights
when we walk through this world, we are doing so alone

to die on your own is a way most people don't want to go.

we have shipwrecks in our hearts and thunderstorms under our fingernails and sometimes i swear to god i can hear the rain in your exhale and highways never come to a complete end so why should we

comatose linked to these tombstones and the way you never understood what her eyes were saying when her lips couldn't move
i keep thinking back to the sunday mornings i found god in and i see the exasperation staining my knees from all the pleas i was sending back to me

maybe we have to see our own blood on the pale white concrete before we can understand what love is or what the sunset really means and i guess i'm saying i lost so many parts of me that i mopped up the blood and rung it out into the veins of a creature you'll never meet

to die in the passengers seat of a car with your heart on your sleeve and their saliva still on your lips is the way most people want to give death it's first kiss

we are brooding through the wavelengths of familiarity and unfamiliarity all at once and we chant deja vu when we meet someone new because they say the last thing you see when you die is those you love so what do we do when we **** the things we once knew and love all things brand new

to die by my own side is such a heavenly way to say goodbye.

When deep breaths won't work
And you're trembling from the fear
Don't you dare shed tears

It kills me every minute.
It kills me every day.
It kills me every hour
For the rest of each May.