YOU ASKED WHY MY HAIR IS SO MANY HUES OF BLUE
       WELL...
I NEED ONE TO MATCH THE COLOR OF MY BLOOD
AND ONE TO MATCH THE COLOR OF MY MOOD
AND ONE FOR THE SKY
AND ONE FOR THE MOON
AND ONE FOR THE VEINS THAT
          S  T  R   E    T     C      H
ACROSS MY PALE SKIN
AND ONE FOR THE TEARS OF THOSE NOT AFRAID TO WIN
AND ONE FOR THE JEANS, FADED IN THEIR GLORY
AND ONE FOR THE HELL OF IT BECAUSE

        NATURAL  
                              IS
                                    **BORING.

It's too bright and yet there's not enough light
And my eyes are losing the fight to dilate
in the darkness
Pupils never big enough to see
The inconsistent haze that has become my
life

I'm off to a wedding tomorrow
My plus one being the empty seat waiting for a mystery to sit itself down in it

Oh, about that wedding tomorrow?
The bride has a request....
Don't question the groom
And attempt to be a polite guest
Don't upstage the figure in center stage
And for the love of demands, be mindful of the dress
He's spent months and she's spent years
Leading up to this utopian day
Of white cake and dry tears
For those two words, sealing a promise of eternal affection, to be said
Ending a possible life of possible dread
And the fear of solitude to remain as that, just a fear

Such a seemingly simple request, don't you think?
The wedding tomorrow is sure to be worth a drink
Allow me to capture this essence of love
Marriage being such an on-the-brink

I'm off to a wedding tomorrow
My plus one being the grateful empty seat waiting for the solved mystery to kindly make its way to another bridesmaid

If we were ripping apart at the seams,
I'd take this blade in my hand and hand it over
I would rather the vultures of Hell pick apart my fragile skin
Than be the cause of the destruction of something so euphoric
It would be cynical for me to break the final thread
A crocheted heart lies within the refines of fine welded cell

You know that feeling after you've downed a drink when you find youself breathing a little quicker

That's how it is being with you.

I'm drowning at the bottom of your glass, always gasping, breathless
Struggling for air after another swig of your emotion
But you're still oblivious, clinking your glass under the false pretense of giving Cheers

All I seem to do anymore is
cry
      and sleep
                     and cry
                                  and think.
The thinking is horrible.

Worse than any salty tear
burning the cuts you left on my cheek
from your razor blade lips.
                                     ◇
All I seem to do anymore is
pass out
            and dream
                               and pass out
                                                    and scream.
The screaming is horrible.

Not because my vocal chords are straining to keep up with my upsurge of emotion
But because it sends a shudder through me  every time the illegible shouts start to sound like your name

You told me to descibe myself using metaphors.
I thought about this for a long time.
I am.... what? What am I?
I could go for the classic "plastic bag in the wind" but that even made me gag
I was just about to tell you some faux banality to sate your mind when it hit me

I am a metaphor.

I am a metaphor, never quite literally meaning what I say.

They tell you to smile all the time
But then wonder why the hell you're smiling all the time, saying it makes you look suspicious

They tell you to tilt your head and you'll see things a little bit different
But then wonder what the hell is wrong with your neck

They tell you to speak your mind
But then wonder why the hell you're not shutting up

They tell you it's okay to be different
But then wonder why the hell a guy's wearing make up

They tell you to follow your dreams
But then wonder why the hell you're always sleeping

They tell you to stand up for what you believe in
But then wonder why the hell you refuse to sit down

They tell you all these goddammed double standards
But then wonder why the hell you don't listen

Honestly,
people have been telling me my whole life about **** I'm going to have to do.
Exercise, eat right, good grades,
hard work.
And you may call it weak or cowardly, (though, I do prefer the term loophole),  but I gave up a long time ago on doing any of it.

I gave up on life, and I've never felt more free.

I woke up with your name on my tongue
Dreaming about you once again, I guess
I still hope it's you whenever the phone
rings
But that's just another fantasy I can't
fathom into reality

I needed you today
Well, everyday, but today especially.

But you weren't there today, were you?
Well, everyday, but today especially

It's always the same story and I keep
trying to reinvent the ending because
I thought I was the reason you showed
up?

I should've known from the first lie
That you would never be mine

Someone like me doesn't deserve someone like you and you can interpret that how you will

So go. Don't show up.
Go and believe me when I say I'm fine because I know you don't care today.

Well, everyday, but today especially.

I killed myself long ago
I kicked the chair, swallowed the
pill, slit my wrist and pulled the trigger
all at once
Then
for good measure
I led my ghost to the water with rocks in its pocket
And yet I'm still here

I cracked under pressure a while back
I let my madness show and scared
everyone half to death
Then
for good measure
I jumped off the cliff of sanity into my insane descent
And yet I'm still here

Something held me back.
I think something held me up, flushed
the chemicals, stitched my skin and
jammed the gun all at once.
And then
for good measure
went insane with me

But that something was a someone.
A someone who did all of it without knowing
Without knowing their smile
could lift my day, hold me up and give
me hope all at once
And then
for good measure
leave me with fading scent of their ****** perfection
Lest we forget, you're still here

Is it a coincidence?
I think not.
It's not just one of those serendipitous happenings where both times we meet are budding from me ******* up.

I may be staring intently at something that isn't there
but I believe it's a sign just as much as the one you always ignored at the intersection.

Me ******* up equals me seeing you.

It's not a perfect formula but I'm still working out the kinks
God, you know how I love math
I'm probably just grasping at something and anything that means I can be with you for just one more instant

I know you see what I'm doing here
And I thank you for playing along
Do whatever you will
Just don't correct me when I'm wrong

I'm trying to **** up

We're just a bunch of ****** up teenagers

living in a ****** up society

and people wonder why we're all

hitting the self-destruct button

I remember we used to play Kick the Cactus until we realized...
                
                  *****, this hurts

I really wish we were better
I wish we were the scenarios that I never stop creating
Because all this time I kept telling myself we would be so perfect
And yet it's been 10 months and I still can't seem to construct a logical sentence around you.

I really am witty and capable of speaking, trust me
It's just when you enter my vicinity you take all my words and smart-*** remarks away
All I can focus on is how beautiful you are and the fallacy of my ever growing affection for you

So I understand why you don't talk to me and
I don't blame you for wanting someone else

I thought I could get better over time but obviously that isn't the case
I'll just remain worth this strip of duct tape over my face

Nothing is stable
I'm just waiting for everything to collapse around me
Or maybe morph into something unknown because
nothing feels real right now and
I'm not sure I believe in existence anymore

It's probably just an illusion and we've all
been playing into the hands of a higher
power's experiment.
We are the guinea pigs of life and I refuse to be a mere
scientific "what if".

Now everything shatters, I've broken the curse
of the glass house.
Tell big brother he's now an only child and I've killed his flies who just so happened to
fancy perching on my walls.

I've uncovered your veil of secrecy
And I intend to expose your lies.
Goodbye im off to a place composed of
realacy for ground and infinity for skies.
Don't forget the perpetual hope for humans that is found so very seldom here.

Oh, what a place.

We could be a famous romance, you know.
Writing the story together, it would be whatever comes after brilliant.
My metaphor, my metaphor please let down your guard
Write to me in your personal tongue
Scream at me on parchment
Let's be the vintage cliché we've always admired.

God, I love it when you talk poetry to me.

We wouldn't just burn bridges. We'd set the whole godammed world on fire with our writer's love shining in their eyes,
blinding them with the metaphorical questionings of two adolescent souls resonating in their skulls.
But God knows this world has aged us far beyond our literal years.

Write to me, love.

Poem for poem, line for stanza 'cause we both know you can convey a message on a fortune cookie and have it smack harder than I could with a 700 paged memoir of the broken.

Let's carve history with quills writing in our blood.
Our unlived story thrashing in its nonexistence dying to become reality

I can't read too much at once
I might just break under the pressure of keeping it together
Together for whom, I don't know.
The screen perhaps?

You convey your pain so vividly
That it literally makes me ache.
Cringing at the accuracy of your words,
Wincing at the connections I make between your art and your life.
It pains me to feel you in pain.

Maybe I just notice you too much but I know who
and what
and when you're talking about.
Her, mostly, but I try not to read those.

But the other creations are utterly beautiful
In a tragic sense, though I suppose art never comes from happiness.
But what is happiness without a little pain?
An illusion
And oh, my dear, you capture this concept like an animal entrapped in a snare.
You make your message *inescapable

It was kind of like you were injecting me with yourself
Except you keep missing the vein.

The bruises on my arms became the out-played artsy reminder of your actuality
Though you made sure that when the reminder faded and healed you were right there to bring me back into your world of needles and twisted gravity

What makes you think you can leave for weeks
You're standing near but you've never been further away from my desperate grasp

The withdrawal of you is excruciating
Like a recovering alcoholic in a liquor store except there's no automatic door or transparent window to reveal a salvation on the other side.

The only salvation is taking another hit of you
So, that is what I shall do
Until the day I overdose on your *intoxication .

There's shattered glass on the floor still
The spidery cracks running from where my fist collided with my reflections
How long have I been here?
How long have I been wasting away in this tainted wonderland?

Controlled freedoms oppress my mind
Which is banging on the inside on my skull, wild with a fury to escape

I can't be out of my mind when all my problems lie within it.
Social pressures mean nothing when you're at war with yourself.

It's not easy when the thoughts in your head become twisted and tangled like Christmas lights.
No matter how hard you try to keep them straight, year after year, you're stuck fighting.

I gave up God knows when, throwing the thoughts on the ground in defeat
Watching the colored light die out
I'd always preferred the darkness anyway.

But even with the numb, there is still one thought protruding in the abyss
A small flicker in the outlet.
It lives on, thriving in the emptyness.
It ***** you in, limb by limb, 'til you can no longer breathe.

But that's what you wanted in the first place, wasn't it? Not to breathe? Not to be alive?

           I wonder if you can see the suicidal in my eyes.

I sit around observing everyone carry on with their single-faceted lives.
How simple would it be to be only one person? Instead, I am left to deal with the repercussions of myselves.

    It's not my fault I'm different with every person, including myselves.

Or maybe it is. Maybe there's something wrong with your brains.

Perhaps, though whatever the reason, I believe we can all agree we are utterly mad
                                                       Agreed.

How funny it is to have someone deny a characteristic of my personality. For all they know, I could be everything they hate covered in a chrome mask reflecting everything they love.
It is of this I think when one expresses a liking toward me.
That affection is vain, they are admiring the qualities of themselves.
No one, not even I can see all my selves at one time. Some come along, new to my surprise
If I were to find a being who values things at more than, for lack of better word, "face value", then I may show them my selves and we would discover our selves together.

How odd would it be to look in a mirror.
     Oh now that is too many faces to look at
   Yes, but perhaps I would discover the gravity of it all - what's holding it together.
                     Enough of your nonsense!
                                Back to work, the lot of ya!

Have you ever heard the ramblings of a crazy man?  They're often like the mumblings of a sleep-talker. Unfiltered, unearthed from the blackened crevices of the burned truth.
     They're rooted in the torn up letters that you thought you threw out. In the prison of socially acceptable things to think
That send you into a whirlwind of what ifs.
     They're in the things everyone knows are true but are too paralyzed by fear to admit.
     In the vapid humor that covers up the paranoia. In the fear still lingering after the emergence of the Monster Town under your bed.
             But what does one do with these ungodly demons?

Perhaps the answer lies in the disregarded chemically corrected ramblings of a "crazy" man.
But who will be the one to open their ears
and tape up their letters
and open their cells
and embrace their fear for the greater good of the fading humanity?

How many times are you going to lie to me?
How many times am I going to believe you?
Every time.
Every time because I need your words to be true

I know I'm setting myself up for disappointment whenever I talk to you.
And yet I find myself at your table every **** day.
Your voice draws me in and keeps me within your grasp.

You are my favorite song.
You are my favorite lie.
You are my favorite "how many times..."

I feel the cool rim at the end of the barrel
It's pressed up against my temple.
One action and it could all be over
I knew something of this nature was inevitable.

My life should be flashing, but only one thought comes to mind
I really wish you hadn't believed me when I said I was fine
It's cruel that you're the last thing that goes through my head
     (Well, second to last, really)
My world is running out of time

I click off the safety - nothing safe about this anyway- isn't that what you always said?
I inhale - I can smell the metal and your fading cologne
I count to three.
One - I'm alone
Two - You promise you'd stay
Three - You left
You forget about colors when your whole world is grey.