And there is nothing between us
that isnt shared with the masses.
Nohing that is only ours,
that has no strings attached
for you always play for yourself.
This isnt a team
its a dream
that I would find someone
who loves me
despite what I had
despite what materials
I could and would give
just to see you smile.
But I deserve  
a fair exchange
of effort, commitment,
and time.
It scares me that I'm
the only one trying and crying
over you.

The hollow and empty
"I love you's"
are poison,
are killing me
slowly.
Burning my empathy
and hope
to the ground
behind my eyes
without a sound
just ashes and ice
in my soul.

Over and over
climbing through
each broken window.
A never ending,
painful experience
with ****** palms.
Leaving little bits behind
on every sill.

These days, being an old soul
just means I hate being sober.
Bottles full of  tears  numb the pain and I'm colder
than ever.
Memories only seem to get heavier
as the nights grow longer
I wish I was strong
enough.

Ive been trying to talk to you
but you sleep deep
so I'm alone tonight
with my restlessness
and anxiety
ridden brain
that has me scared to wake you
though youre pressed to my frame.
I'm so so afraid of the weight
of these thoughts on my mind
it feels as though time is just
slipping by.
I feel as if
control of my life isn't mine.
I wish that we could just
leave this whole world behind
and live wonder by wonder
not trapped by the vices we're under
not walking on eggshells,
stepping quietly,
while the world around
is all thunder.

This holiday, the skies are gray.
This season is not for me.
I feel recluse, I hide away.
Depression soon consumes me.

It comes around this time each year.
It creeps up, as others are full of cheer.
Families, all are gathering.
The food and fun that they all bring,
seems mocking now.
I can't recall
just when did these days
get so dull
I cannot find  that childhood spark
I worry something's wrong with me.
Will holidays forever be
so dim, so empty, and unhappy.

These days, all my pieces
are being given away.
Making difficult decisions
obvious
just trying to stay
positive.
Change puts me on edge
anxiety and insecurities spread
engulfing me
I dont want to get out of bed.

An Oak growing without a sound,
loudly crashes, body broken,
roots rotten,
to the ground.

If my life
were the price
to keep you safe,
make you happy,
fulfilled, and at peace,
I wish I could pay it.
A thousand times over I would.
For this life means nothing
without you in it.

I rush my days
for moments with you,
for the feeling of peace,
of a dream,
where I have
all I'll ever need.

Im neglecting myself
for my time with you Love,
and I fear
that this is too good to be true
that you are mine
and I am yours too,
that if I look away
you'll dissapear.
So Im neglecting myself
for my time
with you Love.

Can't speak,
or move my feet,
shift my gaze,
my vision a haze,
with ringing in my ears,
just standing here.
Though I wanted to be near
to you,
now I want to be anywhere
but this venue
Im not like you
I dont wear my darkmess well.

And I should never have shared
my presence here
on HP
for now I find myself
censoring what I write
to avoid
repercussions.
I wish people
would leave me
alone.

I will carry this
I will carry it for you
and you
and you
and you.
Pile it on
and when you're gone
I'll  carry it for you
I'll  be here holding on
holding out
for you
and you
and you
and you.
It is heavy
and I may break
but won't ever stop
bearing  this weight.

I'll never be him
I'm not sorry, I wont.
And I am the only one
whom I'll let make me feel
that I am not enough
And I am never
enough

Locked up inside
deep in my mind.
They're out having fun,
I'm here feeling dumb,
Ive been going numb,
plan on dying young,
leaving life behind.
The sun is setting
my chance is gone
my turn is passed
my demons won.

"Are you ok?"
Darling I'm not even here.
I am reliving every word
every look
every image
every moment
that broke me.
And its against my will
that I **** your highs
with my lows
everytime I feel it
creeping in.
I keep letting it win
so I can feel
but this wont heal.

And I've been thinking
about how it used to be
the up and down
the mania
and depression
numbly crawling
through the days
numbly drinking
to drown the memories
and burying my instability
in the graveyard
and
never standing still
and
never enough,
undeserving of love.

We are the lucky ones.
We figured it out,
cracked the code.
Birds of a feather,
fated souls.
And I could drown
deep in those eyes.
This beautiful woman
makes me feel alive
makes me feel awake,
with a mind thats at peace,
with the world,
with this girl,
I am finally at ease.
And it makes no sense,
at least not to me,
what'd I do to deserve
to be so lucky.

Black coffee, cigarettes,
abandoned buildings, old carpet,
autumn days by the river,
winter nights downtown,
shivers.
Nutmeg, and cardamom,
burning leaves, noses numb.
Old leather, aged books,
open fields, horses hooves,
apple orchards, and birthday candles.
I miss all of it.

"I love you."
Well, I've heard that before.
It's all too easy
to say those three words,
even when
you don't mean them.
And we all want to feel wanted,
need to be loved and truly.
Words of love
are always empty
without the investment of
time,
actions,
empathy,
compassion,
priority.
These are expressive instruments
of honest love.
And apply to honest expression
of all forms of love.
Without them it will never be real.
Without them its all just
sweet nothings.

Im going home again
still confused as ever,
as to where my heart resides.
Im flying cross an ocean
to try and find
a normal life.
Home,
the word feels empty,
false,
a lie.

I dont know where
I fit anymore.
I feel adrift,
a hollow core.
And nothing's real
and nothing's fine.

I'm in poor condition
a broken thing
and everyone tells everyone
to leave it alone.
So alone.
Even when the sun is shining,
the sky is clear, I'm next to you,
I am so alone.
It still rains in my eyes.
And I've just been fed lies
to keep my resources around
It's no surpise.
And I've come to expect
that everyone will tire of me
and move on to the next
more interesting and easy
contender.
Another man
another lender like me
who is happier or
more likely to supply
the love drug
everyone is on.

In matters of love
I am expertly naive.
The scars on my arms,
my heart, and mind
covered and deep.
And I have learned my lessons,
learned to ask myself questions
with every move I make
every smile I fake.
Maybe I long for the heartache
of losing love.
The pain lets me know
I'm alive
though every breath I take
is shallow, and I
keep opening up
to let the knives
inside.

These days
there isn't much I care about.
My mind is plagued
by constant doubt.
And all I want is to be found,
to be seen,
be heard
without making a sound.
She has been keeping me
on the ground
rather than beneath it.
Chasing peace,
passion,
zen,
balance, and stability.

I dont care who you are,
please speak ill
of the men and women
that walked through hell
that carried on as their family fell
that gave everything
to include their lives
so you might sleep in peace at night.
Go ahead,
speak ill,
so we may serve you,
so we may silence you.

And I'm freaking out
in this moment,
alone
in an overpopulated space.
My heart begins to race
and I go to a dark
secluded place
in my head,
and it scares me
that I default
to desires of being dead.
Cue the flashbacks
and the dread.
It sticks around,
hangs over me,
till some kind of violence
hangs me.

And suddenly you see it
as you hit rock bottom,
as you break down
into the smallest, sharpest pieces,
and your existence screams
at an empty room
to be saved
to stay
to live.
No echoes in the dark.
You see the incredible life
that is waiting for you;
that was always waiting
for you
past the veil
of your despair
your vices
your masochistic
self centered
suicidal
disposition.
You choose to be greater
than your fear,
and freedom ensues.

Im the farthest thing
from perfect
but she makes me
want to be.
For her.

Some people are in pieces,
thats just the way they are now.
And sometimes,
each of those pieces
holds the love of a lifetime.
It is beautiful,
unfair, and heartbreaking
at times,
when the pieces are not held
by just one person.

I am seeking escape.
Pop me a pill,
hand me a knife,
pour me a drink,
maybe I'll be fine.
My mind
is a dangerous
and violent place.
I am scraping at the walls
to get out, looking for a bright red
exit sign,
my hands ****** and bruised.
Feeling so used.
Save me from the nothing
that is looming
waiting for me
to come home.

And why should I stay,
in a world where
I will only be given love
when it's bought
with assets and income
or by my ability
to work, protect, and die
for the women and children,
and thus fulfill my purpose,
because I am a man.
Why should I stay
where my life in itself
has no value?
I'd rather leave.

Grandfather mountain,
watching us worry and die.
Insignificance.

And everything felt so fragile.
This glass house we built.
Like any change in circumstance
would shake the ground,
would bring everything
crashing down.
And I know
we all have a past,
but I wish I was in those photographs.
And Ive been betting it all
that we would last,
but I hear the darkness calling.

These days are beautiful.
The nights follow suit.
Yet behind these still and silent eyes,
I am burning.
Hopelessly yearning
for rain to come,
to douse me,
to drown me.
Washing away
the violence in my head,
the fires fueled
by words unsaid.

Lately,
I keep having moments of mourning
the passing of the life I lived
of the boy full of masochism,
self-destructive determination,
ruled by pain
and fear.
In instances of stillness,
I close my eyes
and I'm back
on the bathroom floor
fading out once more.
I see the pain in her eyes
as I walk away,
again and again,
as I turn to stone.
Nostalgia fills my senses
but he is dead and gone
and I buried him deep.

How I wish I could see myself
through your soft brown eyes.
See the virtue and constitution
that you love.
If I could see what you see,
dispel my insecurities.
I would have the strength
to carry this pain,
to change the world,
to keep you from all harm,
to love myself,
as much as I love you.

Tonight, I'm intoxicated
under oak trees,
and moon beams,
feeling things I've not felt
in too long.
I have been so
out of touch.
I've been too much
in my head,
wishing I were dead,
living
in agony instead.
And so,
tonight,
I'm intoxicated.

I always hated Sundays.
They riddled me
with anxiety
from morning till midnight.
A sense of dread,
hanging my heart
and my head.
Another week gone
and I'm still here,
feeling all alone
its all almost
too much to bear.
I'm crippled by
lack of control.
Sunday's my chest caved in
with the weight of my soul.

It is winter in my head.
Even as the warm summer breeze
touches my face.
It is winter in my soul.
My body enduring
the constant ache
of a frostbitten heart
and numbness is sought.
All bread,
all fruit is ash
in my mouth.
I long to feel empty
and this pain lifted.
I yearn to be buried,
cinders sifted,
fallen leaves
to be my shroud.

I knew it
when the hugs felt different,
when the kisses got shorter,
nearly one sided,
when I felt the urge to ask
if everything was still the same,
and I could hear the lie in
every promise you'd make,
the affirmations were fake,
just two-faced,
our love was a noose you tied
for me.

These days, I think
all I want,
all I am looking for is
someone who will sit with me
and listen to the songs
that perfectly voice
my every heartache,
struggle, failure, worry, and sorrow.
Read into the soundtrack
of my darkest moments;
look in my eyes,
see what's there,
and tell me
everything will be alright.

What do you do
when everything feels wrong,
when you can find no reason
to go on?

Everything stopped.
Suddenly, all I had
was the air in my lungs,
the tears on my face,
and the little bit of space
occupied by my corpse.

If you took a look
behind the smiles,
the smirks,
the laughter,
and blue eyes;
under the scars,
bruises,
calluses,
burns,
and ink,
I think
you'd look away.

I hope your delusions
help you
to sleep at night.

I left all I had behind
with you.
Moved on
into the wilderness,
exposed to the elements,
detached,
on guard,
starting anew.
But all I had
was everything I was.
So who am I now?
I wish I knew.

And once again she catches me
trying to impress her
and I admit it.
We could be bonded a hundred years,
old and gray,
and I would still
climb the tallest mountain,
slay the fiercest dragon,
write the most heartfelt song,
I'd sing it all day
and night long,
to show you I care,
and hope I'm enough.
The past is the past,
but everyone left
when my spectacle dimmed,
and time and time again
was forgotten.
Set aside.
Left to dust.