You romanticize the past like the bad days were good
The times that haunt me are your glory days
As if there was a trophy for how much harm you could inflict
You say you’ve changed but are worse than ever
Trying to pretend your facades are clever
When your daughter asks “when is daddy coming home,” what do I tell her?
See, the difference between us
Isn’t a competition but rather a tragedy
There’s more to the equation than simply you + me
The empty home of what was a family
Scars, echos, and chipped teeth
The difference between us
Is that the distance between us
Has made me stronger
And you weak

Is an illness with no antidote
The older we get the sicker we get
Sweetness can cure the symptoms for awhile
But eventually we all overdose on our own bitterness

The places I visit from the past
Are abandoned and left behind
I ponder to ask if they existed to begin with
Fragments of my life frozen in time

“Nostalgia” is a place I used to visit
Spray painted as an exit sign
On the other side of Saint John’s Avenue
Illuminated by flickering street light


That hollow shell of a building remains
The rest is burnt to the ground

I wonder what would have happened
If I stayed one more sleepless night
Would my body be buried in the ruble
Forever trapped inside

Nostalgia is a place I seldom visit
To look back, I hate to say I miss it
Life sometimes feels as a purgatory or a prison
Honestly, I cannot tell the difference.

To quit drinking
Then ended up at the bar on a Friday evening
Trade tic for tac
Another game I play
I take my chances
Always craving something more
I love to create chaos because my life is never enough
It’s all for fun
What’s been done is done

Mondays seem to always be overcast
With late mornings, and spilled coffee
I come home to Sunday’s chores and a warm bath.
Soaking my sore muscle strains
The bubble bath looks more like thunderstorm
Soap clouds swirling
And drain mimicking the sounds of rain
To lay here for hours? Or go to sleep
Wishing I could slowly drift away
Water caressing my body, like silk sheets
It’s getting late
Finally I am at peace

The fruit basket hangs empty
In a brisk morning’s glow
Once was flourishing
With ripe apples, crimson sweet candies galore.
Delicious apples, lessening the bitterness of my soul
So spectacular, in the evening’s grandeur.
Candelabra and a crystalline chandelier
Sure to catch every sparkle and warm words spoke
Now
Silence embarks this place which was once a home
An apple slowly rots
Under a slumbering tree
But inside the apple, remain some seeds
They sprout to roots, stronger than rope
Much like the kitchen table, made of sturdy oak.
Branches swing the rope, as I slowly choke
What becomes of life after death
Is a question one may ponder to thyself
Look around and see
Death is apart of everything
You, me, this apple tree
Everything is temporary.

You talk about your feelings but never about mine
You do things you know I don't like but continue without a care, and control my life.
You're a hypocrite beyond belief
Easy for everyone else to see
So what's wrong with me?
I give you everything and receive nothing
You said you love me, but I think you're bluffing.
I say it back, while blushing.
No not from butterflies,
But because this is all a lie.
I'd cry, but I've realized,
My tears aren't worth the time.

No one knows it
I stalk the house of which
I once lived
Seems I can never get away from here...
New paint, strange
I miss the old grey
And today,
The sky is nothing but January rain
Melting the snowman in my front yard
Of my house of which
I once lived,
I was once that little kid
Once playful and innocent
Now I sit here, parked a little down the street
Smoking a cigarette with the window down
Watching a family I will never meet
January rain trickling into my veins
New year... Yet I feel the same
How I wish I was that kid.
Everything that is broken would be fixed
No point to reminisce
But here I am once again
Always where I end up
When I got nowhere else to go
The only place I truly know as home.