**** the things that make you run,
who needs 'em?
And let's be honest,
aren't we all a little more afraid of
staying, anyway?
I'm tired of all the toughness.
It is not pretty or popular or thoughtful or fond
to be a disconnected, dearly contented, apathetic
sack of **** body bag made of
music and stardust and a cacophany of epiphanies
being carried around in a lump of a brain that has
"no ***** to give".
I'm tired of the way that we're striving to live and it's *******.
Giving up is not poetic,
and heavy tears are not pathetic when they have been built by
resistance
to the every growing popularity of a
selfish way of living,
as in taking without giving
and being unconcerned with the result.
It's not adult to be so *******
foolish,
and childish,
and finicky
and spineless
and what is this "toughness" anyway but a
generation of *******
who's parents didn't want to have too listen to them cry.
And no silver spoons would ever ponder on why.

I want to push buttons to bring you closer to me.
to write pages upon pages of poetry.
I would like to give you all the finer things.
But this will end one day.
And maybe that day is fast approaching.
And maybe that's a notion I haven't opened.
And maybe my thoughts have been encroaching
on my day to day lifestyle
But you wouldn't know the difference.
And you keep it all hidden.
And I began to feel a bit forbidden
from your
day to day lifestyle.
I smile when I think about the past with you.
But maybe there's no future,
only slowly healing sutures,
holding closed what grew openly between us two.
And if pushing these buttons would bring you closer,
I would type faster than some ******* poser
who is only pretending they know what to do.
But in honest to God, unshaken truth:
that is all I am.
And I thought you knew.
And I thought our love was truer than true.
But I am young and so are you.
And I seem to be all out of the finer things.

6 feet under in the Utah snow.
Numbers falling below zero.
We like to bury ourselves beneath blankets and pillows.
But i've come to find,
morning comes just the same.
Whether you're depressed, hungover, sick, or deranged.
The weather doesn't care,
and your feelings don't change
the downpour, fleeing the overcast clouds,
falling down, all scattered about.
Sticking to windshields, and rooftops, and tongues.
It will clean out all the places that sat in the sun,
And refresh all the faces whose memories stung.
Replace all the moments where laughter was sung.
It will cover everything.
In a sheet of white,
overnight,
falling fast in
soft moonlight.
It will remind you of blizzards
in years past.
And leaving you feeling you're sorry you asked,
to ever escape the heat,
you will retreat.
Back into blankets and pillows,
and nostalgia to wallow.
But tomorrow the sun will come out again,
and no matter how clouded, be certain, then.
The weather is invincible,
and we will continue to trudge through it.

Faith
is a funny thing to me.
The unmistakeable certainty
that things are the way the ought to be,
or will be one day, if you just believe,
and I've never been one to really see
the truth in that.
I've never believed in destiny,
but i'm not one to disagree
with feelings that people take to lead
their mind in positivity
It's a funny thing.
But I have always been certain
there are no blue prints.
And life is made up of a bunch of
decisions,
that you make day to day,
and the things that you say,
affect you in the long run.
I believe in action and reaction.
And every motion or potion, or
silly little notion,
every emotion and
all of your devotions have
consequence.
I believe in evidence.
Circumstance.
And the ability to change,
because everything cannot turn out the same
despite our decisions,
our brief intermissions,
cheap ammunition,
and limited provisions,
I have never had "faith" that things would be okay.
I just tried with every ounce of me to
make it that way.

Let me kiss you.
With all the anger and hurt you ever left me with.
Let me hold you down
and press my lips against yours
with the kind of force
that only comes from big emotions.
I would not have devoted so much time,
except,
I’m a sickening, spineless, sorrowful creature.
And how could I say no to
you?
Oh you.
With the smile and eyes of a
thousand
wise words,
wise cracks,
you wise guy
will you come back
into my arms again?
And stop leaving them
so easily, friend.
I want every possibility to be
you.
But a love this big cannot be hidden from.
So i’m asking you,
to let me kiss you,
with all of it.
Every ounce of emotion I put in to this thing,
let me leave it on your lips.
Maybe you will better know
how to deal with it.

Feeling like the end of an era.
The era of
respect
and communication.
The era of mutual
agreements
feelings
interests.
The end of an era
of
trying and
caring and
giving two *****.
The end of an era of
pursuing and
speaking and
engaging.
The era of introspection,
and reflection,
and self detestation.
The end of the era of
strained relations.
It was the era of
“I love you”s
And I wanted to end it
with an era of
honest responses.

Go home,
you’ll be fine.

So I fell.
Recklessly,
headlessly,
in all of the ways I said I wouldn't.
I fell deep
and hard
and fast.
Like the skydiver who's cord won't pull.
Like the traindriver who's car is full
I moved too quickly.
There was no time to stop and realize
this could never end well.
Whether now or in twenty years.
And all I have done is postpone the expiration date.
It hurts sometimes.
Especially when I realize the way I miss you
now
is nothing compared to the way I will miss you
then.
The day you lock that door for the last time will
**** me inside.
I gave you the code
to everything about me.
My fantasies, my family.
My deepest fears, my future dreams.
The words I speak will form the key that allows you to unlock me.
Leaving my heart broken open,
spilling all my tokens of
rejection and affection.
All my lifelong infections in
my lungs
my heart,
my brain.
I don't hold things back from you because I
can't.
I can't be anything but my crazy, needy, sad, scary
self, when i'm with you.
But recently, that isn't true.
I have been bottling everything.
Saving it for the perfect moment when
I could say it
and you could own it.
And that moment hasn't come.
It is no where in sight
and that makes me run from
feelings
like these
that I have for you.
I keep thinking an end is the right thing to do
but something in me won't give up on you.
Some part absolutely must refuse
my heart in letting go of you.
And I
am *******
terrified,
that this thing might be really true.
But I can't shake the feeling it isn't.
What is it about you that you keep hidden
that drives me along in my endless mission
to stay with you?
And will I find it
before you find out
that
everyone leaves eventually.