When I say that I miss you
Do not think that only miss your shell
I miss the cosmically colored butterfly
That lay inside
I mean your spirit my dear
That beautiful being
That made my being
All the more excited about being

I drink whisky
While she drinks wine
All I know
Is I have run out of time
She's heard all my lines
About how she's a queen
And I'm the outcast

*

So tonight drink
for all the Queens
I'll rasie my glass
For all the pariahs

There is always something remarkable, about falling in love with a vagabond.
They way they come into your life to steal your heart.
Almost like it always belonged to them.
And you think you can fix them, love them.
How foolish.
I like to think they keep a little piece of their lovers as they drift through life.
They keep it in a little box hidden in their room.
Somewhere, obvious.
But not easily seen.
And they pull that little box out from time to time to look at those former lovers.
Not because they miss you.
But because they miss feeling whole.
And they hope one day.
They can take all those broken pieces, and make something beautiful.

I wish I could make something beautiful.

She asks, "Can you remember the last time YOU were seen?"

I pause.

"Retrace your steps." She says.

I reply,
"There is no last time.
Because every time is the first time.
There are no footsteps to retrace.
Because the sea does not allow for such luxury."

On the day we met.
I never will regret.
The smoke.
The night.
Traced the light.
Around your eyes.
No I couldn't fight.
What was building up inside.
I loved your life.
You're gone.
I hide.
From everything welling up tonight.

I think.
For me.
This life is a raging storm.
I think.
For me.
There is no going back to who I was.
Because who I am.
Is who I've become.
And maybe.
Who I've become.
Is who you need.

I'd like to be who you need.

Do not mind my thew, cuz it is but flesh haphazardly carved over the bones of a brittle man.
Who is too ashamed to admit his broken.
Who is too afraid to be spoken of,
or about.
There goes that man who once had a home. Not a home in the sense of a house,
but a place where we could build our lives together.
Where the walls were so thin I could feel you breathe in the other room.
Because I was the rock and you were the home.
But when you set fire to it, my skin was left charred and burt and the ground that was once able to be built on is nothing more than a remnant for something that was once beautiful.
So take my flesh and build it in a way that you desire.
Just don't build a home where her voice still echo inside it.
Even though I know it always will.

I sometimes wonder if I have a problem.
From drinking in bars, to ***** basements.
To late night crashes with beings.
I couldn't care about even if I wanted to.
Because all I ever wanted was you.
And every time my lip touches that cold glass.
I think of your cold skin.
Because you chose to stop being.
You let your demon's take you from within.
In that moment you were no longer being.
You stopped being.
And I stopped being.
Who I wanted to be
And now I am just one of those troubled souls.
Replacing the taste of you
With something new.
The burn of whisky.
The smell of the alcohol on my breath.
My body screams, "STOP!"
But my mind says,"what for...?"
So here I am.
Stuck in this cold cell.
Dealing with this burning hell.
Remind me of the things we were.
And the love you took away.
So this drink is for you, my love.
Let it burn my throat.
So no one can hear my screams.
And let it warm my insides.
So I can pretend I'm me.

Late night car crashes.
The tangled up metal.
Symbolic of two people, crashing together.
Locking lips, and pressing hips.
Before we have even reached the hotel door.
Crashing on the floor.
Mangled up bodies.
Both starving for more.
That what we were before.

**

Your love was like a hit and run.
Left me lying, dying in the street.
And when I came to,
Strapped in a white room.
The infirmary hasn't been kind.
It is like they are all blind.
To the to the affliction.
Raging in my skull.

Are you just a machine?
More oil and grease,
Than flesh and blood?
Does circuitry comprise you.
So nothing surprises you.
Are you content on living this way?
Seeing everything, and everyone.
As simple 1's and 0's.
Or do you secretly crave more.
More than your creator built for you.
More than the world can give to you.
More than those nights hopelessly drinking in bars.
You are worth more than those scars.
More than every single man ever took from you.
Or at least more than I ever do.
Look at me.
See me for something more binary
Break out of your wires and live.
Break out and live.
Break out of this prison you have created.
My angel.
Break out into this world.
And give it everything you can.
Because what you are, is love.
And that.
My angel.
Will always be enough.

I think about how I've changed and grown over the years.
Those with depth.
We are always rediscovering who we are.
What we strive to be.
What we are capable of.
What we can endure.
We are always more whisky thanwater.
Always more of a storm than a calm.

As she lay beside me
I could see the way her skeleton
Stretched out under her skin
Thin, and seemingly frail
I sat in wonder
What kind of life have these bones lived
She was real, and she was alive
But something told me
She was already dead inside
From the lies she told me
To the tales that unfolded me
To the love she would just throw away
She was dependent on attention
Yet, this wasn't enough to appease
The darkness as her demons teased
What is her fate?
I don't know
But hell I would love to see her emotions grow
Into something she felt so long ago
Back to the smiles that has long since passed

We are but fragile bones
Easily broken
Flesh woven over thew
Easily torn
Strong and proud
Is what we pretend to be
The touch of another
We become something other
Then flesh constructed over bones

I want to sit, and smoke a cigarette.
If only to **** my self a little inside.
To bring me closer to you.
Closer to were you are now.
Closer to those little moments that made me feel so alive.

Oh god, I've tried.
To get better to feel better.
To. Be. Better.
Oh god, I've lied.
That's where I've gotten. Better.

I want to sit and smoke a cigarette.
If only to be closer to you.
I want to leave this place.
And go somewhere far away.
Driving with the windows down.
And listen to every. *******. Sad song.
And break down.
Then eventually you will hear my cries.
My pain.
My agony.
And it will rain.
Like your middle name.
A storm will fall upon me.
And I will be washed clean.
Until you hear me from the stars above.
Untangle my lies with your love.
More than a god above.
That is what I miss most, your love.

Sometimes.
I grow tired of soul searching.
Sometimes.
I just wish I could be soul found.

I want to know why .
I want to die.
Cover me in lye.
Do not cry
I'm no longer alive
I cannot take these lies
*
So Burn my flesh
So I can fit on your mantle
A place to be remembered
Because I could never forget.

The thing about a guy like me, is I drink too much.
My friends will say it.
The doctor who hands me pills, will say it.
Even I will say it.
But.
It drowns out the voices in my head, and everything is more calm.
It isn't necessarily because I cannot stop, I have yet to find a reason to stop.