The closest thing I know to love
Is something I am thinking of
In every sorted worry that my mind decides to share

While drinking heavy in the past
Inside the shadows I now cast
The bottom of the bottle lets me know I am aware

Collecting on a shouldered score
Finding it is nothing more
Than voiced in my confessions of imaginary scenes

Reaching for a photograph
Searching for its aftermath
Tuning off the station in the middle of my dreams

The fury of this drunken bliss
Reminds me of your tender kiss
And ever since I felt it, it is something that I long

For in the end this fairy tale
Reminds me of my quest to fail
Deep within the lyrics of some broken hearted song

They say that time does not exist, that space-time is the fabric of being and one can not be without the other.
I beg to disprove the hypothesis, for I am space and you are time, and though I can’t be without you, you are just fine.
I watch the hands of the clock spin, numbers merge to ropes and the tick tick ticking tightens the noose around my neck.
You left a black-hole on your side of the bed, I fell down when 3am called and my ‘I love you’ dispersed into the blackness like our big bang never happened.
Like a tragedy that NASA couldn’t cover up, you hold a pillow of silence over my head.
Like an infection the surgeons can’t cut out, her perfume seeps like **** from every blister that remains from trying to love the sun.