Drug glazed eyes

You don't see me

Wish You Did!

Eyes as grey as a nostalgic sky,
Lips as red as the burning dawn,
Hair as dark as the midst of night,
And a smile that puts flowers to shame.
The stars have left the sky and moved in your eyes,
The roses shy away from the beauty of your red lips,
And ravens wish their wings as black as your hair made of night.
A smile fit for a queen, though you wear no crown.
But a crown makes no difference, for the queen hides within.
A look in your eyes, that leaves them all staring,
Mouths agape, uncomprehending of your beauty.
Your smile, so sweet, so tempting, yet so dangerous,
Could sink a hundred ships and drown a thousand sailors,
And they would gladly embrace death, having seen you before they die.
An angel, perhaps, escaped from heaven,
To bring us your heavenly light.
To bring us your love, and give us safe haven,
And open our eyes to see the world bright.
Far and wide, they’ll go to look for you,
Seeking something that pure and true.
With eyes of sky and stars,
With lips of burning sun,
With hair of night’s silk,
And a soul woven of starlight.

Ink my heart with the words you cried
Cause I was there beside you the night you died
Tell my story with the words you speak
Cause your heart is the paper and its lines are what I seek

Its 1 o clock in the morning,
There's too many hours in the clicking
Of that old ceiling fan.
And if it fell out of its hole,
And hit me,
Would you send flowers?
I think of bumping into you,
Somewhere big.
So nobody notices the sobs,
From both of us.
You cry because my skin is
Ugly
And I cry because your eyes are
Tired.
I wonder (1:05, why can't I sleep?)
If your smile (it never stopped)
Would falter,
With my stories of pain.
(You never stopped smiling, but
Missing you is stopping time)
(1:05)
Click, click.
Maybe I'll write you a letter.
Maybe I'll send it.
(Its 3:30)
One more word on the paper.
Sorry, and it's slanted, floating off its line
Misplaced, like I,
Before sleep.

r.c.

We fight over what we want
At the expense of what we need.
Crippled by whims,
Lashed by whips of greed.

Love, compassion.
Food, water
And shelter
After a fashion.

No Falchion will safeguard our walls
Until we know what they are for.
No cheap parlor tricks , No following a flag
No cheap death, No bugle call.

I can't sleep, she said, *tell me something.
"What do you want me to tell you," he asked.

Something that doesn't feel like knives, something that makes me believe that a burn can be soothed, something that doesn't sound like the way brakes screech right before the worst accident you've ever seen, followed by the gut-wrenching collision of metal on metal, like two hardened hearts trying to soften each other, but only further denting one another and spilling gasoline that ignites a fire, consuming the cars and their prisoners, something that feels like sunlight on skin that is tickled by a breeze, something that grabs my mind by the hand to slow it down, something that doesn't remind me of what will never be. I just want you to tell me something that softens the moonlight and keeps the dark parts of this room hidden. Something that will keep the sun from coming up. Something that shows me that my world hasn't stopped spinning and fallen off its axle. What do you tell yourself when you need that? Will you tell me the truth, or just something beautiful?

"I can tell you that both exist in one word I whisper to myself every night."

Then he said her name, barely audible, and her eyes closed.

Who knows what it means
to be you or me.
Feast upon the geyser
that rests on Lucifer's chin.

Some men are never meant for this world,
Never meant to live and die long lives on the ground
Some are meant to burn to bright and too quickly
Some are meant to fly to the sun

The universe loves these people
The drama they leave in their wake
The universe thrives on their energy
Creating horror for horror's sake

Too beautiful for our world
Too beautiful for this life
Meant to spend sleepless nights awake
Telling stories of lovers to God

When the thunder collapses like my grandfather's love,
there's no one that can hate me more than I do now.
As the lights begins to stain and drain my eyes,
there's no one that can hate me more than I do now.
Skeletons fell with the sea shells in the air.
I hope I'm falling asleep.
To no longer be here
is to be fair to everyone.

Art gallery in my head,
where the paintings hang above
polaroids and used condoms.
Where it's okay that I'm there:
the picture of a *******.
Where it's okay to love me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to know me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to get close to me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to believe in me.
Where it's okay to be me.
Where it's okay to be me.

In 2003 I was molested.
I want it to be okay to be me.
I detached myself from lullabies
and sorry eyes, only to realize:
I could have been dead in March,
right before the summer glows
and everyone would know
It wasn't okay to be me.

Why did you have to do it
My flesh tastes tainted,
and my eyes are painted
with the disgust of distrust
and the disgust of your lust
that corroded my body
and ate my blood
Am I any good
I want to be good.
I want to be pure.
I want to be more
than what I am.
****
There's acid in my veins
There's ******* acid in my veins
My body ******* shakes
Even when in love, I shake
When I'm safe, I shake
Am I ever safe

God isn't real, and neither am I
I am about as real as the dream I can't even buy
My talent is irrelevant, my past dictates my decisions
My love is the only redeeming quality,
and even that lacks precision.
I want to be perfect. I'm sorry that I apologize for anxiety;
it's not so much that I'm asking for forgiveness,
I just want to hear that there's no need to be sorry,
because it's okay to be me.

Oh. Hey, my eyes are watering; isn't this cool?
We're all having fun. Yippee.

The sun bursts rays, and there are twenty-three different ways
to stay alive inside when I'd rather hide from the sun's naivety
Searching for warmth on the walls with blistered palms,
as I lay in bed, naked. Removed of clothes and hope.
Blood in my mouth, new starters with broken shoelaces on the floor
Dreaming of different places. I said: dreaming of different places.
Cryptic words. In other worlds. In fire, I learned to drown.

A-B-C-D-E-F-G
Reentering the room, drunk.
H-I-J-K-L-M-N-O-P
Hide behind the bloodied bunk.
Q-R-S-
T-U-V-
W-X-
Y and Z
Now I've learned my lack of harmony,
next time won't you spare me, please.

Roses fall from the ceiling. There's no way I'm feeling.
Detach yourself from this room, this nation, this planet.
"You're too fragile to talk to, Josh." Thank you.
Don't allow yourself to ever be hurt again.
Regain your focus after I count down from ten.

Ten.
Reasons to stay alive.
Nine.
I want to live, I don't want to survive.
Eight.
There's nothing about me that anyone should hate.
Seven.
There's no god, but right now, I can make my own heaven.
Six.
I detached myself from lullabies and sorry eyes only to realize I love you.
Five.
"You're still there, right?" Dial tone silence, followed by fist to wall violence.
Four.
And to know you, is to know everything.
Three.
Adaptation without reclamation I find you in my translation
as hurt yet elation.
Two.
I want to make love in love. I want to die and donate a part of myself;
my backbone, lack thereof.
One.
When I fall asleep my eyes meet yours.

Intermission:

Do you like hurt? Do you like pain? Is a happy poem not your game?
Well, read a poem by Josh Haines and never look at him the same again.
And don't look at yourself the same, because it's okay to be you!
For the price of absolutely nothing, you can look at his words!
Wait, and that's not all! Validate the 'beauty' of his words by
touching that heart and making it red!
Make it as red as the bloodied bunk that stained his back and heels!
Only for the price of absolutely ******* nothing!
Hurry, though! You only have until the end of ******* forever, so act fast!
The number is
1-800-I'M AVOIDING A LAWSUIT LIKE I DO THE PEOPLE IN MY LIFE

2nd.

Hey, do you like your parents?
Yes!
Trick question. Do you looove your parents?
Yes!!
Do you like seeing your grandmother in a wheelchair?
Yes!
Do you like being hurt by the people that you care about the most?
Yes!!
Then grab some popcorn and cola!

End of Intermission.


Trying like you're crying at the end of the film that documents your life
To divide a knife into your skin like it's a sin to feel this way
I just couldn't take it, bones in the corner of the room.
Inside a skeleton's eyes, flowers bloom.
Chicka-yay-no way. You swear? You say:
Ti-ta-time is on my side, but that's not how it feels inside.
An internal measure of the pressure of the world
and it's bound to run out like the sand in my hands
at the precious beach that would **** me if I stepped
into the blue, for me and you.

Let me turn back time to when I first met you.
Don't be afraid.

I remember everything. To never forget, is to realize every lie,
smile at every face, and to remember every goodbye.

I hurt my hands, I need to talk to you on the phone.

My insomnia lives off the thought, that I hurt you.
The room is blurry, and I'm sorry for being cold.
I am warm. I have the sun inside.
I guess I'm just afraid of burning you with it.

The drums pound into rhyme,
Diamond casualties
Rewind, wound, rewound
To scratch the surface
until there's nothing but sound.

"His love was like
falling asleep on an unmade bed,
Like we won't care
by the end of an exhausting day".

"His love was like
those white-lies that never hurt,
the faint rainbow that can't be
photographed,
the soft giggle of an asylum
patient,
that expired gift voucher
in your high school slam book".

55 years into it;
She just smiles and says,
"If that's not love,
I don't know what is".