And when your shell shatters into shards of grainy pieces in front of him and he accepts you for who you are, learn how to be a keeper.

When you fall, fall hard.  Don't be afraid when you fall.  

I fell hard.  Lips first- on top of his lips.  He got me by my waist and shifted my weight to his body.  

Fall in love and then fall in love with that same person over again. It is a cycle that should never end.

*And believe me, you will see beauty.

Five years ago I died.
I don't know if I revived.

****, thirteen really was hard,
But it was the best played card.

Seems like every day in the past
Still continues, overlaps, and lasts.

I don't know if I'm living in the future,
Or staying behind like an immobile creature.

I don't know what happened.
I don't know what's happening.

People just come and people just go,
'Cause relative to arrival, departure is slow.

You want to see the reality of me?
Good luck finding it, if it may be.

I died five years ago.
Nobody noticed.

My mom said she loves me.
My father did, too.

I think I believed her more than him.
I think he only cares about himself.

That's were I got my **** from.
I can't say I'm better than that.

It's all I was taught.
And now it's hard to get rid of it.

I'm pretty gone, now.
Trying to get rid of some things erased me.

It was an overshot,
But it was a shot.

I say **** a lot of things.
A lot people say **** me.

But I'm not them.
They're not me.

What does it mean to be lost?
I might be, even though I thought I found my way.

I thought I stood up,
To get off the ground.

I think it was *****.
That must've been it.

But I think I just crawled into a chair.
I'm a pretty lazy guy.

From a couple feet higher,
I can see where to go.

But without my feet carrying me,
I can't go anywhere.

And though I know a lot of things,
Getting all the way isn't one of them.

I think I died one day.
It may have been five years ago.

I've met the same person eight million times.
She didn't exist.

I did a lot for her.
She was inside my head.

I did a lot for me.
'Cause I'm not quite selfless.

But I could be.
Could I be?

I don't know.
I don't know a lot of things.

It makes me unsure.
It makes me unsafe.

One day that will **** me.
If I'm still alive.

But I think I died one day.
It was maybe two years ago.

Five years ago, I wanted to die.
But only two years ago, my heart stopped beating.

It was all a process.
It was a matter of time.

'Cause no death is instantaneous,
But it happens in a single instant.

I think I still exist.
If not, there'd be no head for this to be in.

It's not all just inside my head.
That's one thing I'm sure of.

But not completely sure.
Only a little bit.

She left two years ago.
She's not here anymore.

I made a new her two years ago.
She's inside my head.

She left two years ago.
I met her seven million nine hundred ninety nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine times after.

But only for an instant each time.
Then she would always turn into another person.

I got used to the phrase.
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

I wished she'd come back.
But not anymore.

I died two years ago.
She'd be wasting her time here.

But maybe she wouldn't be.
She wouldn't come for me after all.

She would come for other people.
To see people that surely still exist.

Why waste time on the dead?
Better to waste time on the living.

I might not be either of them,
Since I might not exist anymore.

Or I might.
I might still be a few songs, some words on a page, and some marijuana smoke.

I don't know a lot of things.
So I can't be sure of anything.

I started dying five years ago and might have finished two.
I don't know if revived, if I ever made through.

The emotions that were created to please have taken a plunge into the misinformed vision, you have become drained as your actions have placed a negative perception on who you are and what you show, displacing the strategy of your intentions on the light somehow became dark after your selfish temptation started taking control, now the abandonment of love crushes the very dream you had wished for.

Within the time of this creation of false reality you have become blind to what is true, now all you can do is focus on the path in which you have traveled, with this hellish outcome in the open I have come crawling on my knees begging myself for an explanation of why I embraced the fool within, I have taken in the pain, yes the feeling is of being lost inside.

No one to turn to

No one to run to

No one to hold on to when times of penetrating caress form within you.

I despise these decisions.

The one of destruction took away from you, the one thing that would keep you wrapped up inside the arms of security.

Change has to come, indefinitely, this decision will overrule the wrong.

The torture makes no sense.

I lower my head in disbelief.

Written By: Christopher M. Schultz

She shouted from the roof tops
Her love for him
And how it would never stop

He simply stared at her
In utter shock
nobody could ever love me
Or so he thought...

She smiled with her arms spread apart
Waiting for a response

He stood there silently
Unable to move but wanting to walk
Walk away from the lies
Cause he'd been hurt too many times

She begged and pleaded
Trying to make him believe
It's the truth she said

But he couldn't respond
Simply turned around to leave
women only hurt me
Was all he could believe
Too much pain and abuse
For those lies to become the truth

She sunk inside herself
Filled with pain and so many tears
After years of trying
She finally faced her fears
Only to be hit with rejection
Imperfections of love
Shown at there finest
She couldn't stand her thoughts...

He slowed his walk
Thought about the past
Suddenly came to realize
This life is your last
And there on that roof top
He may have finally found some hope
So he stopped his walk
Turned around to accept the truth
Only to find
That she had jumped off...

I am a scenery
to be looked at from afar

when you're on a balcony looking out to new york
your eyes immediatly go to the buldings with the pretty lights
not even thinking about whats within them
and you're last glance is to the darkest spots
but if you looked at them closer you'd realize they count the most

and no matter how far to the edge you will be
you'll never be close enough to really look at me
you will never see the inside of my buildings
nor walk the dark spots in the depths of my mind
there was a time when i could call myself beautiful

*just look at all the pretty lights
the billboard saying "be who you wanna be"
but even if you're at the edge of your seats
you'll never get close enough to a scenery

Her hair smelled of cigarettes and loneliness even while smothered in my affection,
And her eyes glazed over when she spoke to me for too long,
Like she was trying to pretend for me,
But I could always sense the progressive disconnect.
Her mouth smiled with sad eyes when I held her hand through town,
And I knew in my soul that our love was already dead,
But I still let her wander around my life like a ghost for months
Unable to bear the pain of reality.

Everything reminded me of her.
When I went to get coffee on Sunday mornings,
I thought of the time she kissed me for the first time,
The snow falling from the heavens,
The February wind breathing her hair over her face.
I thought of her when I skimmed over the newspaper,
The family circus comics I remembered she said she loved as a child,
Back when we were cocooned under the vast ocean of linens in my bed,
When she still loved me enough to laugh with me,
And her feet lay warm, entwined with mine,
Not so ******* cold.

I even thought of her when I was alone,
How much her eyes reminded me of melted milk chocolates,
All the weird facts she had memorized,
The way she always pecked me three times before going in for the ****,
The way we were so in love.

I am still in love.
We are not.
But we
were.

'please don't ever
hurt me,' you whimper into the softer side of his
neck. he knows exactly where to put his
hands on someone who hurts
everywhere. 'the only way I could ever
bruise you is by kissing you too
hard,' he says back.

you collect his moans like cut out passages from the
bible, he's the reason people get in fights about
god. he might not be a real
thing but there's no *******
way the universe created your boy by
itself.

you want to scream that you
love him from every rooftop in every
city that is warless, every Spanish
town that doesn't have a
cross on the front
gate.

yes, you do believe the story about Jesus being draped from a
cross like your great grandmother's
laundry, but like the buckets being passed around at
church, not all of it was
holy.

he is splayed out on his
back in front of you, his shirt on the
floor and his arms out to the
sides. as you push down on his
hips he bites his lip until it
bleeds the colour he knows is your
favourite. 'the only way I could ever
hurt you is by holding your hand too
tightly,' you promise him, leaning into him like a
corner.