My nights consist of getting drunk and typing up messages to you but immediately erasing them. I could drown in a bottle of tequila and still only see your face.  

My nights consist of smoking **** so loud I can physically feel my heart echoing against my rib cages trying to escape this hurt you left me in.

My nights consist of razors so sharp that when they open my wrists they also open my eyes allowing the tears to fall.

My nights consist of many things that use to help me forget you, but are now a constant reminder that this hurt will never go away.

*My nights consist of missing you.

inhale
exhale
skin breathes
your scent envelopes me
i'm choking on every word that
i've never said and i begin
to spit shattered shards
of thoughts into the
palms of my
hands
and this is
when you notice
me heaving and you
roll over onto your other
side facing the steady walls
so you can be a 33 year old man with no
attachment to an 18 year old who mistakenly
emptied herself into your salivating, ravenous
mouth and you inhaled me with such
pleasure it almost had me thinking
that perhaps i mistook your
distance for sadness
as soon our time
holed up in the
nostalgia
of your home town
would come to an end
and maybe your feelings grew
much taller than even our abhorring of
love and strings being tied to you and
anyone else but i think now i understand
that inside of you is a tragic, drafty cavern
filling it all the way up with every thing you're
not has become such a habit that when your wolf-like
eyes rested upon something youthful and impressionable
it was simply second nature for you to devour all of me and
then leave me with a cavern of my own, you know i've seen
a mirror since we had to part ways and if i hadn't known
any better i would've said that i've started to grey
around the edges and my teeth looked rather
sharp, if i looked a little closer i may have
even said there was a canine-like
resemblance that now suits me
beautifully, naivety is dead.

We roll back and forth
From side to side
Looks so needy
Grips so tight

Unbuttoned shirt, ripped dress
Will soon end up on the ground
With all the rest
The gentle touch or the hard hand

The screams for god
The squeeking bed
This night, I may never forget

Follow me dearest
Come with me lover
Let me show you what you thought was never there
Let me sing to you the song of my sleepless nights
The one that kept me awake all this time
I am not who you think I am
Nor the one you thought you knew

craving intellect rain of thoughts
surroundings filled with serenity
recalling life introspectively
respective to the cores and layers of earth
positive energy and abstract propane reflection
vibrations of a hero
self-consciousness reaches selflessness
victory at the palm of his hands
grace as the structure of his body
windows of his soul as bright as the healing moon
he listens.. to the creator that never slumbers
freedom released the light worker in him
peace and blessings were a product of his faith
remincsement of the reluctant wisdom power
self-motivation inspired in his final hour
mind is as grey as the trees' shades
confort inn beginning of purity's blades
life begins. . .