"If any negative thought lingers, he let it vent.
Wrote this one with his ******* in wet cement. "*

I don't want to lose you
but I can't continue trying this hard.
I can't put forth the effort to maintain this,
when you give none.
I can't think of any more ways to say this
so I'll say it simple: I love you and I'm losing you.

I'm an idiot
But so is everyone else
Except for the ******* because they've got it figured out

People could refer to it as romantic masochism
But they're pretentious and wrong
Because there so no masochism in the nature of what I'm doing
And what I have done

There is no masochism in begging to be near them
There is no masochism in being held
There is no masochism in your happiness as they tell you things that they probably mean
There is no masochism in your inflated ego
There is no masochism in your infatuation

There is no masochism as you claw to get away from the distance
There is no masochism in waiting for them to make you feel good again

It's not quite selfish either
Because while their kissing your neck and singing to you
You find yourself drawn to their content
And drawn to their ease

But all affection
All "love"
Ends in war
And they are not the exception
And you are not the exception
If you stay you will die
In one form or another

So the ******* have figured it out

Never love them passed act 1

Leave at intermission

On my usual flight
from Dallas to Boston,
I saw her,
a perfect belle
a white summer dress
red roses in print
Alfred Dunner perhaps?

Lips pouting,vermillion red
delicate nose, dark sun glass
a Gucci, I could see,
scent of Nina Ricci perfume
reached my nose
"Lucky lady", I told myself.

Me in modest clothes
wondered how happy she was,
sure as looks do tell;
diamond ring
perfectly poised,
commuting to work place
has a good job for sure!

On a sudden impulse
glanced at her face,
and was just in time to see
large drops of tears
slide lazily
from behind the dark glasses
roll over the cheeks
and fall on the lap,
and then another
and another.

Yet she sat still
faintest tremor on the lips
I  imagined a volcano
erupting in her heart.

I looked at my faded skirt
and closed my eyes,
wondering, wondering;
joy and sorrow
elusive indeed,
where do they strike
how do they ****?

What's one more pill to a man who's taken thousands?
It depends;
if you're running out and you drop one under the fridge, it's enough to move the fridge.
If you've taken eight but can't seem to fall asleep one might just do the trick.
If you're trying to sober up one might mean starting the cycle again.