I have scars and yeah
They all have their stories
Written scripts to heavy plays
With plot lines I can't share yet
So my mind's like an
Alberta rainy day
A longer expanse like a
Damp plateau or plain
Emotional highs are climbing like
A mountain range ready to drop from
This complex to extremes
But we can have happy moments
Without really being there
We all have our issues
And we work just to clear air
We all deal with them ourselves
Always in different ways
What's yours isn't mine, with
The dealings that words couldn't say
Like the heart's a grenade and
The pin can be a million subtle things
And the only broken heart I've had was
My fault with all my hopes and dreams
With built up emotions when I spared
Myself no lack of idealism
And if they say that drunk words
Are really just sober thoughts
Then in this life there's no place for
An inebriated heart
And while there's bruises on my back
From leaving problems out behind
I wouldn't accept any less than
Your scars and story lines
Because we're one of a kind with
The way that our mind would
Work through the times
And through writing and music
With George Watsky super verses
I've found my singular disability is
Over-thinking where my place is
But it's about time now
Where I'd work up to let go
'Cause I'm the only one to let down
When success is measured in gallons
So I put down the jugs and then
Expectations are the only
Exponential problems
And I know that I'll be fine

Your memory flickered
in my head,
like a candle light.
My heart is bruised,
and my words
have tasted bitter
in my mouth.
Rolled your name
over my tongue,
tasted like tobacco.
I ached for you,
like I ached for a cigarette
but those are two addictions,
which I must quit.
I took your pictures
all down,
tried to forget the soft words,
and sweet nights.
You stained my sheets,
like you stained my heart
with sweat and kisses and words
You will stay in my bones
for as long as I live

I am in love with a boy
I can only really love when he sleeps.
Once he wakes and starts to speak
We run into trouble.

The way he uses spite is appalling and
(quite frankly) impressive.
At the end of the day we are equals of the worst kind-
Weaknesses targeted
and terrorized.
Bent on destruction
of both each other and (most certainly) ourselves.
We pick and choose the rules.
Common decency means nothing.
What is common?
What is decent?

Why can't we just find a way to love each other that makes sense? (I frown)
Why does it have to make sense? (he pries)

But when he sleeps
It always seems rational and reasonable and
even sometimes doable.
Every movement, every whispered word, every muffled thought
dulled by dreams and expressed by snore.

Your breath is never regular.
You are never regular.