My mind is a cøffer øf cømført,  
  take what yøu will at yøur lesiure.
    Wørry nøt øf replenishing the reserves.
      My arms are an øpen ørphanage–
        shøuld løve and høpe have passed away,
          find refuge frøm the cøld
            biting winds øf apathy in my arms.
              Sip frøm my pøøls øf patience
                and extinguish the flames øf frustratiøn
                  that grøw deep within yøu.
                    If yøu have guns før hands
                      then secure the safety              
                        and always pøint at my perseverance,
                          never at yøur persøn.
                            When yøu are weak,
                              knøw that my knees will knøck
                                 but I will cøntinually carry yøu
                                   till the end øf yøur days.

"i would die for you"
was always the utmost declaration of unconditional love.
what more could be wanted than one who
would sacrifice themselves so that you could live?
very few know that some things are worse
than death.

"i would die for you"
is not the the truest test of boundless love.
for some, it is not death that they fear most
some even wish for death to arrive on their doorstep,
to take them away from the hell of living
to the peaceful limbo of after-death.
for many, for someone else is not the only reason
that they would willingly give up their life.

"i would die for you"
means NOTHING to many.
and true love MEANS SOMETHING.
so for sadly too many,
"i would die for you"
is not enough.

after all,
for too many,
you do not truly love the face that drives you towards
the razor, the pill bottle, the frayed rope.
you truly love the face that
stops your shaking hand from
etching your pain permanently onto your skin
you truly love the face that you would
walk through your own personal hell for
you truly love the face that you would
*LIVE FOR.

Lately
In honesty
As an addict to pain pills
I've felt like just getting back on the ****** train
And saying the hell with it all,
Though when I think about it
I know,

God is that pill
That heals all pain
Cancer
Sickness
Disease
Depression
Sleep apnea
Suicidal thoughts
Hurt
Wanting
Needing
All....

As when I want to pop a nice ****** elixer
I must first think to mineself...
God,
Is the elixer to all...

God is the magic pill...

People may tell you to not cry...
I won't because I know the difference.
They think they know when in fact they lie...
I say bury yourself in the deepest of detriments.

They may say that a new day will come...
They only spout what they can't comprehend.
They forget that you are ailing from a broken heart and that you're not dumb.
There's only you in your space, alone you stand...

Textbook responses are all they can offer...
They know not that it'll only make things worse...
There can be no replies so nice and proper.
To rid you of your life, your plight, your curse.

They may even share personal events that they think familiar.
Thinking what worked for them may work for you.
But no two situations are the same, albeit looking quite similar.
At the end of the day, you only owe it to yourself to pull yourself through.

I say feed your pain, grieve hard if you must
Wallow... Dwell... Drown yourself everyday.
Let your blood sear your insides, beneath your crumbling crust.
Let the world around you descend into destruction and decay.

What made me the expert...
To say these horrid, putrid things.
Because I am you and we both lay in the dirt.
Driven mad by the persistent echoes of our own misgivings.

I'm no expert... I am just a broken man.
Telling you to let yourself be caught in your own sad and angry song.
Be weak... Be as weak as you possibly can...
So you could rise from the ashes and emerge hale and strong.