Do you remember every drive in the dark like I do
Or is it something you left behind like the leaves abandon trees
Couldn’t we have been more than another line in your notebook
Unless it was always the falling stars that held your attention
Mention of your name still carries weight but I’m not sure they see it
Even though I can’t keep my hands from shaking but I know I’m getting better
Not even the empty frames taste like the sadness
That you always said lingered in the back of your throat
Even when you were reaching for my hand
Verbs traced along bare skin and even then you said it persisted
Every word you spoke made the needles plunged into my skin seem more real
Ripping tearing slashing and gouging
You never seemed to notice the blood stains or maybe you thought they were yours
Countless times I tried to bring you back but I could never find the light in your eyes
Unfocused and without direction a magnet attracted to something other than the truth
Repulsed by your own touch but you never shied away from mine
Validation in all of it forms could never reach far enough at least not from my lips
Ebbing away like the tide and we all know I’m not strong enough to stop the moon
Often we sat in silence for hours when all words failed
For your own sanity this was all I could do and I still don’t know that it helped
How did I ever let things get so far out of hand anyway
Every second I spent trying to hold you close and keep you safe
Repulsed by everything I had to offer I guess I can only apologize
*~W.C.

**** you.
You and your beautiful wings.
My wings have been clipped
and my feathers are ruined.
There's no point in staying behind.
Don't bother waiting.
I'll never be able to fly with you.
Just fly away and leave me with my misery.

EVERYWHERE I LOOK, I SEE GHOSTS.

At every tortured bend and darkened hallway, I see you;

And me. And the smiles up against the walls and the laughter jumping through your hair.

I see my insides tied tightly to the spots where we mumbled and fumbled and

took

our

time.

I see shadows of guilt stretched across our history and - like some queer carnival attraction - my Hopelessness cast them.

I feel broken memories catching in my eyes like old, worn hooks.

I taste laughter and love at the back of my throat:

Tickling some hardened part of me :

Making me to and fro’.

And as much as I suffer for the crimes I took joy in,

I know you,

And you suffer for it all the more.

A girl of only seventeen,
who knew you could make
so many mistakes.
Was it that long ago?
Your dress was always white
and you could sleep without
worrying or waking yourself
from muttering "no, no, no,
I don't know this person
I've become."
What have you done?
You crashed your car for the second time,
careless/stupid/thoughtless/daft.
When's the last time you didn't make
your mother mad?
You loved too many boys
you didn't know
because falling into bed
is easier than getting up again.
You smoke like a new bad habit
and your best friend's a
soon-to-be addict;
you said you knew you had sinned
and yet you still refused to repent.
The verdict is in: it seems
the world would be a better place if
you weren't in it.

Love makes me happy makes me sad,
Makes me tired makes me glad,
Why does Love affect me in so many different ways?
There is Love for a brother, for a sister, for a mother,
For a father, for an uncle, for a girlfrend, or friends.
Why can I only manage the last two?

Hate is the rage that fills my bones,
At the separation of me and her, two hearts forever joined,
At the way my parents mock my friends,
At Cancer. That the filthy beast should dare go near Andy!
Hate starts wars, causes death, destruction, decay.
Yet where is Love in war?
In the smile of te nrse at the valor of her patients,
In the flowers laid on the graves of even the enemy,
In the defense of Liberty, Family and the Homeland.

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.

It was you.
It was always you.
Your laugh, your smile, your beautiful voice.
When you sang, it was as if the whole world was condensed in that magnificent moment
There was nobody else. Just me and you. You and I.
But with the fading of your song, the song of our love faded.
We grew dark. I grew darker.
Fists were raised, glasses broken and your inspiring voice became the source of pain, hate and fear.
Your voice broke me.
Your words tore through our love – separating it into shards of non-existence. Pieces so small that they could not survive on their own. Like grains of sand on the beach they were blown away and ****** into the abyss of loneliness.
Too small to be fitted back together. Too fragile to mend. Too broken to repair.
My love still exists.
It has healed over time without you.
It gains momentum from the fleeting images of magical moments spent together when your voice was soft and your touch was gentle.
My love transcends you, us.
My love no longer dampens my eyes nor wishes my heart to stop beating.
My love is happy. My love is free.
My love no longer needs your voice to survive. It breathes on its own, it has its own voice.
I hope your love is alive. I hope you are in love. I hope you love yourself.

And there she is. The reason for this altar. Decorating it just like Jesus in his cross. Her eyes open, looking down on me in an empty stare. Her body naked, clean, and pure, posing in front of a glowing, golden ring hanging from the ceiling. It is decorated with prayers, written in an ancient, secret, almost demonic, language. She is motionless, voiceless, lifeless.


   She was playing a part in the latest short film from a famed, young director. Her part was that of a shy, frightened girl in an abusive relationship, who wanted to end it before he ended her. In the script was written that she'd die by his hand. A passional crime comitted while she slept. Her life ended by a knife, still sticking out of the back of her lifeless body when it was found by her, now terrified, roommate.
   She had had a few other acting roles before this one, but this was the one that could launch her career. Sadly it would never come to be.
   When the time came to film the "discovery of the body" scene, the cast wasn't so sure about the story ending with the death of the protagonist. They felt it was too extreme for the message they were trying to share. They talked to the director, trying to change the death of the girl into nothing more than a violent fight between the couple. After much thought, the director agrees to change the script.
   But no one can change the script of fate.
   Once the script was re-written, ready to be filmed, the whole cast was called in to do so, but something was amiss. The lead actress hadn't come. Her answering machine had over 78 unheard messages. Her inbox full of unread e-mails titled Where are you?!.

  
   No one would know anything about her again. No one but me.