I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream:
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

I’m throwing up on myself in the bathtub
and chain-smoking these Newport box 100’s because I need this nicotine but I could stop if I wanted

I have more willpower than any one person should be allotted
but that’s just the way it is

and I smoke them three at a time in hopes sometime soon this can **** me

its strange to say that I don't know you
when I was under you just a week ago

and you have that tattoo on your neck of the Bayside emblem
and when I traced It with my tongue you moaned in my ear
and you smelled of sour diesel and Marlboro reds and Budweiser

and now im a little partial to that
because that smell is seared into my sinus

and in the morning I would struggle to find my clothes
wrapped in the sheets and try to sneak out of there
before you could grab my wrist with tattooed arms

and whisper “stay, please”

so this is me sneaking down your steps in my socks
and tiptoeing past your Christmas tree
and opening the iron gate in front of your walkway
and this is me driving away in the rain at 6 am

because I should not be sleeping with a 24 year old man when I am 17

I'm his *******,
                              
                                       he's my ******

we'll use each other
                                              
                                                all night long

so we'll never
                                              
                                              "not

                                                      feel

                                              high"

                                                                           again.

You are a drug
handcrafted by the Devil.
Addiction came after
a single touch,
always craving “just one more.”
Everything used to feel like a dream,
but I don’t think
I’m dreaming anymore.
Traces of you still flow
through my veins.
I don’t want to be addicted anymore.

****** addicts are funny not because they do ******
but because they lay on beds in every angle but normal.

it's difficult to describe
why your body chooses to spend weekends
alone surrounded
by the slimy tongues and bottled self esteem
take another hit
while your mind explores the chip on his front tooth or the sweat dripping off his eyebrow
your body takes the pounding while it whispers in your ear how little you mean and you tremble at the thought of being handcuffed
you wonder if he remembered your middle name
Francesca
or noticed the way that when you breathe in your collar bone protrudes
ill ring for you