Lets have a drink,
together at last,
recounting misdeeds
of our misguided past.

It never gets old.
(It hasn't as yet)
Remember that one time?
How could I forget.

The nights, they get shorter
as the stories retold
remains only the best
remains only the gold.

The past and the present,
they do have their pains,
but throughout the whole night
only one thought remains:

God bless us
God bless us
God bless us for sure.

We don't talk about our future
no more.

Mind disappears when I'm
dancing with you.
Music sounds beautiful
and every songs about you.

Matter looses meaning.
Dreams become expectations.
Made a perfect person,
as you become all my aspirations.

More is not enough even when I'm
drowning in your presence.
More than obsessed, I'm anxious
about losing your pleasance.

Might never feel as whole as I
did with you, please don't leave
me alone with myself
and your absence.

The foundation of
our library is
a section we
refuse to see.

Historys largest
collection of stories
just endless tales
of suffering

All of them
both blindly written
and left unread
by all of us.

Too much shame in
our work for
our work to
ever improve.

Everyone an author
even if we only want
to see ourselves
as books.

ever since we stopped
I wake up every morning
eyes fly open, feel in shock
hand grasps for the phone.

even though I know there is
nothing I could read that would
fix us or you or me,

I'm still crushed you didn't write.
why do I keep doing this to me.

when did everything
get so serious?

seems like half a breath ago
we played and smoked
we talked and fought
untouchable.

but the expositions over,
now the conflict begins
as we're heading up
our arc of suspense.

as our self worth starts dropping
through constant comparison
of our backstage
with their performance,

we start getting beaten
and we start thinking that
we deserve to get beaten.

as our cheating and lying
turns from harmful mistakes
to just another part in a
cyclic self destructive
downward spiral,

we begin making the
unthinkably miserable
happen impossibly frequently.

so witness live:
the loss of another generation
to self violence
mental health
and despair.

Buried deep under the earths crust
in a student apartment
a diamond lies awake.

Can't see its own beauty
in its native darkness.
Can only feel
its acute corners
and sharp edges.

But once in a while
a candle comes to visit
and its enchanting
bright red flame
gets reflected
and mirrored
on every surface.

And in the candles light
the diamond feels beautiful.

A strangers house
Empty and silent
Crowded and loud
Just as lonely

A strangers friends
Pushing through the crowd
No room to breath
Drowning in air

A strangers life
Light through a window
Daylight saves me
From a pathless night