You loved me too **** well
So I sacrificed myself, blue mind
And ****** body, up to you completely
In search of a higher place
Above the chaos this love creates.
Don't you worry, this wanderer is lost of her own accord.
Put down your shining armor. Lay down your heavy sword.
The strength of your metal has proven worthy.
Try as you have, you cannot save me
And I don't expect you to.
This fight is mine and blood will be shed.
You were just the body I broke against.
And you held strong for so long. It's time to let go.
Stop your hollow talk and fill these empty hearts.
We must sacrifice ourselves and repent for our sins
Before we can play our redemption song.
My love will not falter.
Brown eyes, will you help me forget?

Walking in the woods praying                                                                                                      
to the heavens above for a clear mind,                                                                                  
some spirit. Glass pierces skin, rush                                                                                          
of blood. Euphoria.                                                                                                                  
The body is numb. Mind is sharp,                                                                                  
shattered. Rubbing alcohol for the wound                                                                            
and a shot of whiskey to send him to sleep.

The selves we lose while
we’re busy being found
in the brittle pages of bibles,
at the bottom of Barcardi bottles.
Transcendence and imminence
weave together and pull us apart.

I am the daughter of misfortune
And he, the keeper of silence,
hellbent on our own self destruction.
Fly high or plunge into desperation
as the shadows dance with light.

In dark riverbeds where eternal thirst flows incessantly
You guard only darkness, my distant friend.
The night wind spins in the sky and sings.
Endowed with broken heart and fatal dreams
My pain is bound in chains, restrained.
I exist only in the cracked, dry stitches
and in the seams of the oldest tree.
Falling forever from skin into my soul
Waiting for death’s sweet song.
Surely, those soft footsteps are hers
come to carry me home, sweet oblivion.

And now that she’s back
in your life again I find myself
telling you that I’m happy
for you and her and everybody
but we both know I’m not.
I’ll play the part of the fool
while you stand there in the corner
using my heart as a child’s plaything.

The guitar notes float down
from the upstairs window.
The neighbor man has the blues
again and I realize he’s not alone.
Seven years worth of memories
make for a heavy, heavy weight.
To attach like an overgrown leech
starved only because of my own ignorance
will lead to a dark and lonely death.
I can't help but think that you find pleasure
in this game of back and forth we've been playing.
Do you know what it feels like to always be
somebody's second choice? An afterthought?

Cheap winks walked her wonder
further down the hollowing
turns as darkness quickly
assured me of being warily
mentioned as difficult

Perhaps war is only glorious in song.
And love only true in the movies.
Words can't say how I feel for you.
When life makes for a weary soul
and tired bones, slow, stop yourself,
the life threatening to swallow you whole
as you spend it to the satisfaction of others
and lay here with me for a moment.
In the silence of the early morning
breathe deep the sweet fragrances
of salty skin and cheap cigarettes.

For days afterward she feels
Numb and diluted; nothing can touch her.
And then a rush of emotion so strong
She's dancing across red rooftops.
Plummeting through the night sky;
Alice chasing her heart down the rabbit hole.
Unafraid of death's sweet oblivion if it means
Forgetting the taste of him. How she comes
Crawling back with just one word.
Manifestation of anger in music:
loud, angry, earth shattering
And finally quiet. Quiet enough
To ease the heaviness of the world.
Words spill out. Questions. Doubts. Apologies.
When the world is spinning alongside
Your head, remember,
You. Me. The world. It was all made to be broken.
Take a sad song and make it better
Because happiness has a violent roar.

Love, love is a verb.
She was a bullet
Headed straight for my heart.
She is heavy.
She made bad ****.
Tell me something. Something more.
My life hurts.

You say
This body is a temple
And to treat it well
Because this life
It's the only one we've got
But baby's fat bracelets
And thunder thighs
Never melted away
When she started walking.
And I've stopped wishing
For these heavy legs
To work like they should.
You'd remind me that real
Movement happens within
And to not be in such a hurry
Because maybe there's a reason
This body is broken. My blue mind
Sometimes forgets that karma
Takes time to work itself out.
I just can't see how
I'm supposed to love something
That has never been the source
Of anything good in my life.

There lives the sweetest ignorance deep inside lies
like a parent giving consolation during a hurricane
because sin is easy on the conscious when nobody believes in heaven or hell.
Grey matter, brains neither black nor white,
gasping for air in a world where we've lost the ability to feel
empathy like novocain, stares and strangers with eyes lacking love
waiting to die young and become raised up like a martyr
instead of living the everyman's life.
Self doubt, the most beautiful of all flowers, like blood from a rose thorn's *****
pumping through bodies. The man and his guitar on the street corner,
dressed in his Sunday best, each note a silent prayer.

I was three years out of high school and finally getting
the chance to grow up. I’d been ready since before
graduation day. Everybody in the world was certain
that I would fail. I couldn’t succeed. Thanks for the vote
of confidence. I am proving them wrong. I’m succeeding,
maybe not thriving, but succeeding right before their very eyes.

Success is living on my own. Being able to do every household
chore on my own. Success is getting myself to and from where
I need to be in my broken down, beat up wheelchair. Success
is budgeting my money each month. Success is not getting killed
and ***** on my walk home from work in the dark. Success is
living up to their standards and way of life. Success is faking a smile.

I’ve learned more about life in the last eight months than ever before.
I’ve made mistakes, just like they said I would. What they didn’t count
on was me learning from those mistakes and picking up the pieces.
They told me I wouldn’t last more than a month, six weeks at the most.
I would ***** up, fail miserably, get hurt and hospitalized. Thank you
for the boost of self-esteem. It’s made me tougher than steel.

I may not be the perfect student, skinny blonde *****, award winning
page designer or most eloquent writer. I may not speak Spanish fluently,
have loads of extra cash lying around or a motorized, state of the art
wheelchair. Stop telling me what I need. I don’t need or want any of them.

Success is living how I want to live. Success is a productive day when I want
nothing but hot tea and soft music. Success is having the confidence to ask
for help when I’ve been told I shouldn’t. Success is making friends who can
read through my masquerade. Success is facing the consequences. Success is
found through red ink marks and piles of papers. Success is not letting those
who don’t believe in me get the best of me. Success is sunshine on a cloudy day

The television is on with the football game  
blaring from the speakers with people crowded around
screaming out plays, and insults. Jumping up and down until
the popcorn and beer a spilled and it's time for refills.

The kitchen is a mess. Packed full of chips and dip, pizza and coke.
It’s become a free-for-all. An all-you-can eat buffet.

Candles scent the air and lamps light the way
When you come, you won’t want to leave
Because it feels right. Because it fits.

Lying there in your arms on my bed
without a care in the world. Laying there
and pretending that maybe, for just one minute,
you were mine again and I was yours.

Our hands intertwined and sweet kisses
on the forehead let me know you still care. The way I
tickle your arm and nestle my head in your chest
drives you crazy. The way you wrap your arms around me
and pull me closer; the way you tickle my back makes me
melt while I'm lying in a dreamy,
semiconscious state with you.

What do you miss the most?
Oh god, everything. I miss a lot of things.
I miss the way you smiled at me like I was the only thing
that mattered in the whole wide world.

What do you miss the most?
I miss the connection we had that summer.
Me too. Me too.

If you could change one thing, do something
differently, what would it be?
I would fight like hell to see you more,
spend more time just like this.
How about you?
Hey, that wasn't in the rules.
Since when have I ever followed the rules?
I would kiss you more.

Do you remember our last kiss? I do.
I remember everything about it and it drives
me absolutely crazy.

It was hot outside, really hot, and I had to leave
but your car needed some work before you could
make it home. We said goodbye and I had turned away
to leave before spinning around for one last kiss.
God, that was incredible.

What happened to us?
And please, don't feed me any *******.

We don't even have to say a word.
You lying here with me is enough.