I remember that summer by the lake
How you were surprisingly quiet that day
and nice to everyone which was weird
no sarcastic remarks
or swearing

so unlike you

your wit had died down
if we hadn't known better
we would of said you were distracted
But grateful for the change in your
demeanour
and teaching me to skip stones
If only you had taught me how to place my heart in my palm
and throw that away
instead

You weren't one for smiles
but you didn't like dramatic send offs either
that's why I was surprised when we found your cold body on the floor
bathed in the afternoon sun
In your fathers cabin
by that god forsaken lake
Under that red sky that turned everything the shade of your blood

Cassie slipped and fell and screamed
But I didn't hear her I was too busy focusing on you
willing myself to see a chest rising and falling
but all there was, was static
somewhere beyond Cassies screams

And Luke rushed to somehow clasp your wounds shut
The reflexes of a Doctor's child
But he didn't see that there was no more blood left to flow
and you were blue and cold
but you seemed unburdened of whatever
was eating
you

I remember feeling relief
I stood there
numb

We laughed at your funeral
At the irony of it all
and when your aunt got up and said you were the most
kind, generous young man
we almost died of laughter then

you were the most cold sarcastic ******we ever met

but still loved you

Jake elbowed me and said "What would he do if he was here right now?"
I smiled  "He'd jump out that ******* coffin and give his mother a heart attack"
Because it was you after all
You did love dramatic endings

When I was younger, and chat rooms were relatively new
I would bring up the topic of suicide. Sometimes,
contemplating the reaction my death would get from others
I would lie on my bed, sobbing.
It was just a mental exercise
to soothe myself
with the thought of my own death.
I saw this internalization of conflicts as the ideal approach--
mortality, akin to a train-line I could exit at any stop.
Where you pull the chord determines context for your plot.
I try not to romanticize suicide or see it as a solution; suicide is simply a neutral alternative to life, which is full of painful and pleasurable experiences.

i’m sleeping on a pillow of doubt
every feather pressing through the seams
hours closing in on the moment i’ll awake
and remember what it means to think i see

Falling in love with you
arrested my heart and
left a pain
lingering through my body,
infusing into my soul,
never ceasing to
grind my emotions.

I** had
never

loved anyone before
or think I ever will again.
Verified loneliness leaves me
expecting your return,

whether for love or friendship,
I will forever hold a place for you.
Threatened by no other man, my
heart is completely

yours.
Other boys may try to persuade but they
underestimate my feelings for you.

I had a dream
you were in it
I wasn't asleep
I was wide awake
it was a few years ago

Now I can't dream
you're not around
I only sleep
I don't like to wake
This is now

These four walls
Familiar yet new
Close in
Expand out

Industry calls
Preys upon dreams
Sets its goals
Upon those who crave
The glory days
Built up from birth

They permeate all forms
Of things that touch
The human heart
The human mind
The human soul

They serve themselves
Before all
They serve themselves

There they stand
Like new again
In the mind
Think tank back

Spots on the map
Where we've been
What we've seen
Who we are
Refects upon today
Looks the other way

Ghosts of the past
They haunt the ground
And alter the course
Of travelling sound

Those that rise above
Seem somehow to know
That they are the ones
Needed in the plows
That grow the fields
Of wicked wheat

And then there are
Those that are unknown
Here as nothing
There as something

Also an expance of futures
Calling and drawing
In all directions
And for all reasons
They can't get enough
And you push some aside
Only to have them
More overtly contrive
A decent explanation
For what they provide

Soon they say
We will be
And it is believed
But the truth is alive
In what we perceive
The outcome of which
Is nothing without
The garden
We grow

Go