I am jealous of your cigarette,
won't you place your lips against mine instead?
Inhale-
Exhale
A dance of rapid breaths.

I'm jealous of your cigarette,
of how delicately you seem to hold it
and yet never let it go until, of course,
it burns your fingers;
but I promise I'll never do such a thing as hurt you.

I am jealous of your cigarette,
of the aftertaste and the time it takes away from you,
of how you confide in the smoke in times of desperation.

I'll be here, your addiction,
you won't need to light me up;
and leave you a better taste.

We're but a collection of monochrome films,
each it's own color.
Pixels on a screen,
giving life its big animated motion picture.

You are the absence of color in our cinema screen;
white.
I am the absorption or combination of all combined;
black.
So why then, when reflected through a prism your light
gives a rainbow?
It must be the light versus a color, without the light there is
no Technicolor.

We're but a composition of a continuous film,
and ensemble of the cinema of life.

There is a blood clot in the center of Imagination Street,
I can feel it.
It blocks the path that follows through Creative Avenue
where cars horn, roar and protest, curse and smother with
a simple look of “Move the **** on!”
And yet no paramedic can remove the jumper that
lays from austere insipid life.
It's a victim of routine they say, jumped from the nearest skyscraper
hoping to touch the sky but fell miserably on to the streets.
There is an aberration stretched over the streets, I can feel it
because it's me.

I am to see to it that I never find you,
dear my stranger.
Because if what Steven Chbosky said was
indeed true,
"We accept the love we think we deserve."
Then, I sure do not believe I deserve you.

It's natural to be afraid

So step into this

Be terrified with me

Scars on my wrist
And scars on my leg.
Scars on my heart,
Please no more i beg.

But i put down the blade
And picked up the gun
Ending this life
I imagine would be fun

I'm losing my mind
And that is true
I'm just a tortured soul
And i don't know what to do

No one will help
All they do is put me down
I wonder what they'll say
When I'm not around

But that's ok
I won't tell a soul
About my emotions running wild
And out of control

And when I'm gone
I mean dead
Don't come to my funeral
Cause i don't want one tear shed