I can't say I said to stop
but I never asked for this to start.
It was a Monday,
A cold one when you first held my hand.
Well not my hand, my hips actually,
but it may as well be the same thing at this point.
I told you not to fall and I swear to god I meant it,
But anyway,
seasons change and nothing stops the wind from blowing.
It was the comfortable type of pain, you said,
the kind where you forget what it was like to breathe normal.
Somewhere along the way by the rocks or maybe even in a field,
I remembered why I loved you
And cried to each and every blade of grass because they'd never understand.
I pulled out clumps and chunks until all that was left was dirt,
And when I realized what was gone I sat blisterung in the sun,
threading each and every blade back into place.
The difference was,
no one was waiting on my side with a needle to repair the damage,
Because I crossed the bridge to you.
You didn't play the part
You let the part play you and ego swallowed you whole.
You were free to go at any time,
I never made you stay
And the word I love you sounded tainted coming from hands that pressed my body to the ground.
Nothing bites as hard as reality
Except you, according to my neck at least.
I'm sorry we ever became lovers because since October the girl has changed but the moon has stayed the same.
And can I tell you something...
You never even ment a thing.

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunset
to make up for the way it hides behind skyscrapers;
masses of brick and glass that join the sky at right angles,
Like Atlas and his children
and all his children's children gathered together
to hold up the earth we created,
The sky we created,
With all our city smells of restaurants
and power plants
and cigarettes.
Of course we’re addicted

We are all constellations
Traced from the electric lights we substitute for stars
Even though we know we cannot replace them.
We have to remind ourselves
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are scars out there somewhere,
There are scars somewhere,
And they bleed out of peaceful park fountains and
The city grew roots around them,
Fluorescent scar tissue pumping subway cars through
Tangled arteries carrying passengers
That are fifty-seven percent coffee, add a turbo shot of Business suit and
a serving of secondhand smoke.
Of course we’re addicted

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunrise,
But we cannot see it from below the ground.
Of course we’re addicted

I thought we would be the friends
That managed to survive our youth
Without the dependence on drugs, and alcohol
So often found in our peers
A tool in their desperate pursuit of happiness

I thought you would be there with me
To talk, and joke
About being the only two not at the party
Getting slammed out of our minds
Stumbling away towards nowhere

I thought you were genuine
You promised me things wouldn't change
Saying wouldn't let the temptation get to you
Staring the demon in the face and whispering "no"
Because you'd seen the evil of its ways


We both come from families
With a background in addiction
We both have seen the damage it can do
Murdering a future
Shattering a family

I believed you when you told me
You understood what it was like
Watching her become someone vicious and nasty
And you swore that never, ever
Would you be the same

But I know better now, you're a fraud
A weak willed person
Afraid to stand up for yourself
When the people come knocking
Offering you a trip

These days I sit alone when there is a party
Because nobody is left on my side
This car so lonely when its only me
The empty seat next to me serving only as a bitter reminder
That nobody is with you, on your life's ride

My uncle slit a man's throat with a box cutter in my childhood home and didn't apologize.
Sitting in a circle filled with crack smoke and stale beer breath.
This is a shining example of what I've lived with
and the lengths I've had to go to escape the thing people call "destiny".

Thievery, lies, pressure, and violence
has been calling my name for the longest.
But I know the voice too well to be taunted.  

Words are my freedom and words are my piece of mind.
There is not a single substitute.
Whether poem, prose, or paragraph,
This is the only calling I've ever had.

I've lived with a hoarder, addicts, senility, and ignorance
in a variety of different combinations and forms.
At times, power, water, freedom, money, necessities, have all been an unachievable thing to me.
Lost to the vile goals of those folk I love.
I am the only one who sees the beauty in the fragile and odd.
The others see only a mess on a paper, and move their eyes to the nearest glowing box.

My father drowned when I was six.
My grandfather followed soon after.
My mother felt the stab of this and caved so many times.
I witnessed and shared the burden of her pain and grief.
My grandmother forgot everything she ever loved or knew, and short after passed as well.
Pets and possessions,
friends and followers.
All gone with a drastic breeze.
I am the one with the vision, but I am trapped in a shell of a city,
covered with that wretched stink of refined soy.

Will I be able to unburden the world from myself?
You all give me such great courage and allow me to share the beauty as I see it.
You all have such great skill with symbols and it makes me feel like home isn't far.
I want this. I want this.

If I keep breathing like the rest of the world
I feel I may miss the sound of the world's heartbeat.
But my death would not bring a solution for the ones I love.
Only a warrant for more death.
I need this. I need this.

With my words, I conjure up hell.
And hell brings with it the familiar.
Run little kitties, run.
The Doubling House and The Sequential Church will not hold forever.
My havens are temporary, but the craters are forever.
I will struggle till the pain becomes all I am
and I buckle under the weight of what I shouldn't have taken
from the mighty Atlas.

I do this for me.
I do this for you.

On my knees by the bed
Praying for forgiveness
One shot in the chamber
Hoping I don't have to outlive this

Six shot revolver pressed to my right temple
Hand so steady, despite the potential
Of a tragic end to a tragic life
The thing i have dreamed of for the past thousand nights

Father above please guide me home
Your kingdom is waiting I can't go it alone
Because the night is dark and full of terrors
Please give me this, one last guilty pleasure

Lord hear me and answer
Please bless this revolver
A one in six chance
For my corpse at an altar

I tried to run away
But despite my best efforts
I couldn't avoid the truth
That in life, and in love
All of my paths, lead to you