Closed doors
Tension holds every movement.
A drink stronger than our egos
The hardest part of mixing my drinks is that when I have the spins I can't hold onto you.
Im drowning in my head
I'm sinking in my skin.
I don't want this anymore.
I want to die and come back as who you need.
I want to die and come back.
I want to die.
I'd die to abolish your sins
Yours alone.
I have a problem.
It's not you.
It's in a bottle and hides in cans.
Typing is hard.
I'm sorry.

I think maybe

I gave too much

For too long

It feels like theres nothing

Left to take.

Nothing left to give.

And the center of my body

Where I  used to keep

Every whisper of love for you

For me. For everyone.

It just feels

Lighter.

It may be empty now.

But thats me now.

Nothing like before

But thats me now.

Now, the cold.

The cold doesn't hurt so much

The lizard king came alive in the walls of prophets,
A shrine to help follow the subjects of the topic.
I lost my mind, but found it inside the tombs of those left behind.

I left a part of my soul on La Ciegna Boulevard.
The looking glass had the last laugh,
Some smiled.
The sun dials told the time accurately.

The shadows followed me from one side of the city to the other.
All the way to the coast of the continent.
It was here I found the confidence that was lost in the dominance of you.

We broke on through to the other side,
but it was too soon,
and the other side was the same like butterflies.

Cocooned in symmetrical thoughts of the stars in your eyes.
It’s no surprise we both knew it all at that moment.
Our toes exposed naked in the sand and lost in emotion.

My love
Is a poem translated  
Meaningless

Between the lines
It germinated
And bloomed
And floundered
In the memory of
The fallen flower


Wounded seriously
Fighting
With the insects
Buried themselves
Between the petals
My poem
Now
Is a morsel of
Crumbled words

Translated by the unknowns
With the pen
Filled with poison
This fallen poem itself
Is my love.

Her hair is like the sun,
Lighting up the day.
Mine is like the midnight sky,
To which lost souls gaze in utter dismay.
Her eyes of gentle, calming blue,
And mine of piercing gold,
My simple, sad, repeating story
Is just now being told.
Every time, I understand.
I expect this dull feeling-
I don't stand a chance.
The girl with the fleeting
Look in her eyes,
With raven black hair,
And a deadly fire in her smile.
She's never the one,
The one to catch his eye.
And though it pained her deeply,
She learned, on her own, how to fly.