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My happiness, fleeting, lacking longevity.
Crippling depression shrouded by levity.
Keep my heart under lock and key; it's yours now.
"Oh, that old thing? I threw it out ages ago. I figured you wouldn't want it back."
Ten seconds to fall in; still trying to climb out.
Inspired by the song Litost by X Ambassadors.  And every girl I've loved.
Define a full life.
I sleep four-five hours on
Weeknights.
In winter I work in darkness that
Only breaks during mid-day;

With snow blowing sideways,
Finding its stubborn way between
Garments to touch skin
With a thousand needles.
I have one deep scar for every

Week of work.
I've been more cold than warm,
More exhausted than rested,
I've been to death and back; have
Photos of my own heart from
Nearly unsuccessful surgery.

But staying dead was not for me.
With friends and interests like mine,
Heaven held no grounds to hurry.
There is too much music.
Too much wisdom in old eyes, too
Much beauty in brand new ones.  

I wake up in a warm bed
Beside a warm woman,
Eat warm food daily. Both my
Parents still live. My brother is
My best friend.
I meet challenge upon challenge
Upon challenge.
Some I win.

But more important than anything:
I laugh. I laugh and laugh
Until my stomach can't move,
And I smile to the skies
With my face still wet from tears
I wouldn't bother to hide
From anyone, saying
Well played, up there.
Love every scene; every joke; every
Set. The soundtrack is impeccable.  
Characters loveable.
Give my best to the scriptwriters.
They crack me up.

Can't wait to see how it ends.
Promise me a
Sequel.


I'd do it all again.
Define a full
Life.

Then live
It.
He has no use for them now,
so he opened this shoppe.
The sign there says, "OPEN,"
but no soul dares stop.

Through the translucent windows
the townsfolk walk past.
On the dusty wood floors,
all their shadows are cast.

Lining stone walls
are the rusted old toys,
some all-telling relics
from a hopeful young boy.

The patrons just see
some tainted old junk,
in a shop being run
by some lonely old drunk.

No one buys what he sells,
so he silently cries;
A little boy hidden
behind those old, mist shrouded eyes.
Just a poem about my fear of growing old.  Wasted potential and alcoholism are common themes in my family. I don't want to end up like the rest.
I took the girl I had known for never to the formal affair,
And she told me she was from Laos,
And hadn't had sushi in over a year,
And said her father was a diplomat,
And she spoke great English,
And said she lived in Canada when she was a child,

All I could say was,

"I hope I'm as interesting as you someday."

She smiled, laughed, and said,

"Your time is up."

As she was leaving all I could think was,

"That escort sure had an elaborate backstory."
Based on my experience with a last-minute date for a formal event.  The real-life inspiration was not an escort, but most of my dates to these events have seemed like they were just that, the only difference being the method of payment.
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