It's distressing to find out all my friends are strangers.

I've never felt so alone, afraid, and uncertain
Pulling shades on the windows and closing the curtains
Leave no trace of a shadow for a shadow of doubt
I think that I'm crazy and I want the hell out.

Now the world is changing
And lives, they fall apart
But we can not fix this
If we don't know where to start

We weave these words of kindness
Pretend to understand
We claim to show compassion
But lend no helping hand

I'm on my way to save the world
A world I can see, a world I can touch
I'm not dying for ideals, no
I'm dying for what I love

We walk with eyes half open
Minds closed, refuse to see
Hope is hard to come by
In a world of bitter dreams

We sit on thrones of ashes
With knives behind our backs
We offer out false friendship
It's brotherhood we lack

I'm on my way to save the world
I refuse to change my mind

If I let go, I would float off.
I would disappear into the abyss.
There'd be nothing left tethering me
to you,
Or this place,
Or to just this.

I write in fragments,
Becoming more stagnant
'Til I write nothing at all.

And so I falter:
Stammer, stutter, stumble.
Mumble. As my words crumble.

These notebooks I've filled?
Toss them. Tear pages out.
Destroy it; fury unbound.

Let's dissect the hate.
I'd hate to disappoint.
Disappointment? I digress.

Take me to those places where I first learned that I could love. In school yards, and in churches, car rides, Longhorn's, and smoky music clubs. These places feel so empty now that we're telephone lines apart and I'm alone.

Take me to those places where I first learned I could hurt. Phone calls on my bed, the last of car rides on the road. The street where we last embraced before I left and headed home. These places feel so empty now that we're telephone lines apart and I'm alone.

Take me to those places that I first learned I had hope. On couches watching movies and those places I wrote poems. In Rome, where we saw zebras. And that mountain path we got lost upon. These places feel so empty now that we're telephone lines apart and I'm alone.

Take me to those places that I had happiness. All those places in time that we had shared before you left. And when you come back, we would share some more time in places I won't regret. But then those places will feel empty when we're telephone lines apart and I'm alone again.

My eyelids paint a picture that I just can't recognize
I thought at first that it was you. But it was sorrow in disguise.

Who could have known that when we saw last would be your last? Who could have known that some sunny days can't last forever now?

So tell me just what were we thinking? So indestructible as this. Without definition. Like puppets on a string held up for what?

So I sing a song of mourning. Morning comes, morning comes. And I think I still see a smile. You're never gone.

And I know that these things will never be the same. And I know that I'll never see you at the games. I'll see you at the gates.

Sing for the living; don't mourn for the dead.

We don't know where we went wrong but we keep pushing on and on and on.

Standing on bridges,
Feeling something I don't know how to explain.
Seeing headlights,
And taillights disappearing around curves.

Hearing how the overpass sings to me
Of hope and forgiveness, quiet contemplation.

These conversations aren't working.

I know you're scared to death.
Of your whole world collapsing. Caving in.
But I also know that you almost welcome it.
So we'll just keep chasing the Brightside.

And the images of the horrors you've met.
You've held on to them.
I know you used them to break your skin.
But we'll just keep on chasing the Brightside.

Life is what you'd expect:
Lies, lies, lies, and more broken promises.
And I know that your joy won't outweigh your disappointments.
But we'll just keep on chasing the Brightside.

So you're writing poetry.
Not with pen and paper but with your every breath.
And I know that you welcome death.
But we'll just keep on chasing the Brightside.

From the rooftops I will scream it.
For love and now death, I've wept.
And I know that I won't forget.
But for now, I'll just keep chasing the Brightside.

Her eyes told me a story
Of lost faith and deception
But she could calmly tell me
It was a common misconception

And she said it didn't matter
It was her body he was after
You see, attention is attention
And she never got it from her daddy

Oh god we've heard it all before
We look just fine, hearts are worn
Oh god we've heard it all before
We look just fine, our lives are torn

His eyes tell me a story
Of losing love and failure
He says he's doing fine and
That he can't be any better

But I think that he's crashing
And he is void of passion
You know compassion's not compassion
If it's only trend or fashion

Sometimes I drive to feel fine, to feel alive, to feel anything at all. And the seat beside me is often empty, but it's okay because I drive to not feel lonely.

But sometimes the seat fills with people, with things- often notebooks and pens. Not pencils. And these people change, they up and leave. Say goodbye and never look back.

But it's okay, because I was just driving to drive anyway. Sometimes in silence and sometimes with the crackle of the stereo. Mostly though the sounds of bands that have helped me feel less lonely.

And in the backseat is usually a guitar. And it's not always in a case. And windows down. Key in ignition always. Never mind when I'm not around.

I'm not hanging around.

The view from here is hard to feel.
An empty presence, no breath to steal.
White knuckles grip steering wheel
Taking me far away from here

I remember cold hard stares
They were making it hard to care
I swore that I'd always be there
And I can still recall the screaming on the stairs

I don't know if I ever had hope at all.

I don't think I could handle it:
That crushing feeling of never being good enough.
Hoping has let me down so many times before, I'm tired of coping through misery.

And if I'm afraid to love then it was learned through disaster.
Too many sudden stops of the heart after it kept beating faster and faster.
It's scarred so much more than before.

I don't think I can handle it.

Oh love, that crippling defeat.

I'll brood in quiet contemplation
Waves of indifference wash over me
I've been sitting on this cracking pavement
Bored to tears but still brimming with apathy.

I'm not choking on ambition
I'm not feeling a ******* thing

It's haunting that she stands there with that look on her face. It reminds me of the last time you'd stood in that place.

It's haunting that we drive through the darkest parts of town. Like you and I used to when you were still around.

I find the tears in your eyes just a little bit daunting. Don't get me wrong. You know nothing can stop me. I know my words seem harsh but my eyes speak softly. Come on dear, don't you want to come haunt me?

It's haunting that she stands and she's frozen in place. It reminds me of you faking that smile on your face.

It's haunting that we drive through every traffic light. Like you and I used to when you were still alive

Ever since you told me
"I've been losing sleep"
I just want you to know
I've prayed for rainstorms twice a week

And I know you never listen
And I know you won't care
And I know you don't believe in love
And probably never will

I know you never listen
Please tell me that you're listening
I've loved you just enough for this to end up in a tragedy.

But I can't help but wonder
If there's anything else there
Besides a girl with a broken heart
And a head full of despair

And if she wants someone to save her
If she wants someone to care
Then she can always come to me
Cause I'll always be there

And if I can abandon compassion and if I can abandon hope, would it make me less human? Would it make me a ghost?

I'm trying to reconcile the difference between the things in my head: the inconceivable anger and the thoughts about death.

And this brutish indifference and that bitter betrayal. The loves long forgotten and how that same love always failed.

And I can picture your reaction; how you wouldn't even react at all. Because when you left here,
you left me.

We sit in lonely isolation

Myself in a van in a town across lines dividing states.
And you might be seated in a class room. In a city far away from me.

I can feel a strange indifference.
If you can too then it's a shame.

We lie in broken desperation.

In cold beds with no regard to how this works out.
I traded all my fears and aspirations. The way I see it, I don't need them anyway.

I can see a bit more clearer.
I wonder how this life works out.

I can say it won't mean much to me.

We die in empty desolation.

With broken hearts and heads riddled with unease.
We spoke in whispered conversation. Filled with regret and apathy.

You never seemed to listen.
But maybe that was me.

You know:

I started reading about self harm.

And I found that it was the only thing that broke my heart- my scarred and bruised heart was finally broken.

My heart swelled and gushed and broke for you.

And all those gashes.

How the skin swelled. Blood gushed.

How you broke.

And especially how you would lie. And say you're fine. Until your depression forced the truth from your lips.

And I remember all those bracelets. All those things to hide your wrists. And how twloha was seemingly permanently engrained on your arms.

And I remember thanking god that it wasn't from a blade dug into your skin. And how it was funny and ironic because I didn't believe in him then.

But I kept your secret for all these years. And I hope you're doing better.

I pray that you are.

And if you aren't..?
    Well, I guess you'd never tell me.

Not anymore.


And you see:

That's why I'm bitter. Why I'm angry. Why I'm hurt.

Just tell me honestly that you're fine and don't you dare tell me a lie.

Cause I was there.

And I remember.

And I still think about it all the time.


And believe me when I say that it has consumed me.

It affects the way I write.
And what I say.
And how I meant it.

It's about the only thing I write.

Words like: scars. Wrists. Etched. Carved.

See. I'm a liar if I say I still don't think about you all the time.

I remember every single bitter goodbye I've ever had to say. Left alone here in this town, though I was never forced to stay.

There are ghosts I've left behind me and there are ghosts that still remain. I can feel their haunting presence every single stupid day.

How they tear at all my motives and pull on every string. Leave me choking on my failures. The whispered voice of muted things.

Am I just some bitter tourist dragged by my wrists through private hells? Am I author and conspirator writing the stories in which I dwell?

To what extent am I  responsible for this situation that I'm in? Am I really as alone as I have always thought myself to have been?

There is little I am sure of and fewer still of which I know, but I know that I am dying and that I'm still not ready to go.

I have unfinished business. I just thought that you should know.

No more life.
No serenity.
No more peace of mind.

Nothing to stop this argument or put things back in line.

I've been dreaming under forgotten stars and I've heard it all before.

Only lies.
No sincerity.
And old forgotten friends.

Lifeless life I've left for dead.

All means to my end.

Burning fire set me free. I'm burning bridges once again.

I must have reread your letter about a couple dozen times
In my car with the air on and two windows down.
You said you'd taken my jacket and shouldn't leave my car unlocked.
You said people like you would come around, but I think maybe not enough.
And I love driving recklessly all across the town
And some'd say its a waste of gas and time, but it's not a waste of mine
And I love it when you're next to me telling me stories of your life
I love it even more when it's the half a millionth time
I would trade in all my old regrets for all of your secrets
And I would give you my whole heart if you'd take care of it
And I think about you often in the middle of the of night
I wonder every moment if I, too, am on your mind

You're writing your sins down as scars on your wrists and you're hiding them all behind bright colored bracelets. And you're praying at night just to help you get sleep but you're so lonely at times that you can't eat.

And it gets lonelier still when all your friends start to change. Move to new places or move on to new things. But these things don't intrigue you. Not like it does them. So you shove it aside, try not to show your frustration.

There is no salvation. No escape from discontent. Only death dates etched into tombstone cement.

But your frustration's swelling to an ear splitting hum. And your heart's pounding rhythms in the beat of a war drum. There's a slash - a quick flick of the wrists. Broken mirrors. And tears. And fingers curled in fists.

You started tearing down the walls in the back of your mind. Just to find some solace or some peace of some kind. I hope that you find it - the reprieve you're looking for. If you feel disillusioned, I hope you won't anymore

So tell me what you think of when your whole world collapses, leaves you brokenhearted and it leaves you worthless, breathless.

So tell me how you're coping. Keeping copacetic. When at first you walked on water, and now you're just submerged.

And if you fear your self destruction. Can I tell you I fear mine?

It's the things I neglect when I'm trying to stay calm:
Friends
Sleep
Picking up phone calls

Nervously eyeing the clock again. I'm running on low it seems.

The sound of your voice, crackling softly over telephone wire, is cracking from the miles between us.

I don't blame you for not picking up.

I don't blame you for not calling back.

I don't blame you for any of it.

It's easy to forget:
Five years seemed to move so quickly.
And those scars, have they faded yet?
Do you know how I hate I remember it?

I'm haunted and losing it.

We painted picture perfect skylines to veil every flaw that we'd uncovered but we're not so naive to think that it would be enough ever to paint the stars to hide the scars that she'd carved into her wrists and in her thighs and in her neck to give her hell to reminisce.

We watched in horror at the crumbling of the friends we've come to know. Watched them decaying rapidly from people living to caskets full of bone. He said "darling I was listening and I was watching all along and I tried to understand but you're dying all alone, so come back home."

But where is home when we're drowning in our doubt? Is it true that you're looking for a way out? Because I still see your light shining brilliantly.

So hold your breath and give in to  this. And fill your pockets full of stone. Walk to the river heavy footed and stand up on the shore. And listen up and listen in and watch the tide keep climbing in up to your feet and then your knees but it doesn't have to come this.

We painted picture perfect faces to hide the chaos in our minds but we spend every waking moment hoping it'll fade away in time. And so we pray the smile stays but always fear that it'll fade. And so we etched it in our skin so it can never fade away.

We're buying cheap regrets like cigarettes in the name of a love that we would just forget. And everything I ever said was everything I ever meant.

From spelling bees to drama queens. Could we serve no purpose in between? Everybody's standing still with all eyes on me.

And I say 'Everybody's doing fine. It's salt and vinegar in time. You can lay your head and you can weep but we both know you'll never sleep.'

Now these lazy days will fade away, victims of lonely razor blades. Slashing through our only hopes and glory fades away and I say

Beautiful metaphor, how you've saved my life a thousand times before but when will we ever realize we're self absorbed?

What pain can a death bring?
I'm not talking about life
Or those petty little heartbeats.

But rather when some one leaves us.
Breaks our trust and betrays us.
Shatters faith. Destroys heart strings.

Is it enough to bother?
I am smothered.

I am dying a death, supernatural.

I'm drowning in self doubt.
I'm choking on ashes.

If anger is a demon then hatred is another.
They tear at my rib cage. Shredding my insides.
They rip out my heart, replace it with nothing.

I  am nothing.
And nothing is I.

I'm feeling like the hero in a Salinger book
Dodging your questions and all your ***** looks.

And when you turn the next page
I'll wish things'd stayed the same.
Between the lines about last year
And this year's opening phrase.

Every feeling I've carved
In with a pen
Dragged across paper
And threw in the trash bin.

What a waste of my time
Can I please waste yours?
I'm sitting on front steps
And knocking on back doors.

It's a perfect day for bananafish
It's a perfect day to feel alive
It's a perfect day for bananafish
It's a perfect night

And at times,
I feel like I've changed.
Learned all my lessons
And shouldered all the blame.

But I know,
It's a feeling short lived.
I'll give up the ghost
And let bitterness sink in.

And I'm sure
By the end of the night,
I'll have plans to call you
But those plans just won't feel right.

It's a thing
I know I'll regret
But you'll get married next year,
so I might as well forget.

Raise high the roofbeam, carpenters
We'll make the house come crashing down
Raise high the roofbeam, carpenters
I'm bringing it down

They say it's good to see me smile
And how they haven't seen it in a while

And they ask about my writing-
Am I still troubled and alone.
"Are you still writing about cutting?"
Am I still afraid of all these ghosts?

No, I don't think so.

I might be troubled, but I'm not lonely
I was never afraid to be alone

And I write of self harm because it comes easy

I've had as much talk about fear and distraction as I can react to before I start going numb.

Between the secondhand smoke and the lies in the bedroom, these serenades to no one start to feel rehearsed.

Like I couldn't tell that I'm ****** up. As if I didn't know I was boring. No. I'm not talking. I'm just choking on biting my tongue.

I'm growing bored of your complaints and all your narcissistic *******
About your plans and why they falter and why these guys just do not love you
And ain't it tiresome to keep on talking when you know not a soul is listening?
But you still blather on and on about the same old tired **** you used to

You're still pretentious and annoying with all your petty blabber
About the he said/she said nonsense and how you think it really matters
And all your endless ******* questions but you don't really want an answer
You're just crying for attention but you'll be prying here forever

When everyone has left me and poetry betrays me, would you still stand beside me until the end?

It's the only thing I need and all that I desire. Your voice inside my head is healing me.

Your blue eyes and smile- how they set my soul on fire. Nothing matters nearly as much to me as you.

What's it like to trade your friends for all the latest trends in music and art, when it's not from the heart?

And I'm wearing these heartbreaks as a symbol of pride to help to remind me that I'm doing just fine.

You can't keep me silent cause I'm a screamer from rooftops, a screamer in car rides.

I'm a dweller of basements and a stone's throw from walking to find peace of mind.

So we're packing our boxes and selling out short. And when they ask us, we'll say it couldn't have worked.

This isn't a good bye. It's a bitter "farewell." I've known you for too long, so believe me: "I'll see you in hell."

This isn't a good bye. It's a bitter "*******." I've known you for too long and this is long over due.

This isn't a good bye. It's a bitter "I'm done." I've known you for too long, that's it and I'm gone.

Oh I looked for something better,
but these lines; they were so bitter.
I find that self-destruction is the latest trend on Twitter.

I've become addicted to pain. The kind that leaves you troubled, broken, and insane. 

I've become indifferent to shame. So cast out all your sins and let me shoulder all the blame. 

I've become distracted by flames. As I watched you burning out, I felt nothing- what a shame. 

I've become indifferent to rage. I've put the past behind me, I'm not bothered with why you didn't stay. 

I've become addicted to pain. Not the kind were skin breaks, but the one where the heart's ripped out its cage. 

No one said forever would ever be forever enough.

She's a beautiful disaster with scars on her wrists and she said, "I'm glad I'm not dead, cause this'd be a ***** to have to talk about. I couldn't do that to my family and friends

So let's not talk about it. "I'm fine."
So let's not talk about it. "I'm doing fine."

And I know you never listen.
And I know you never care.
And I know you don't believe in love.
And probably never will.

She said, "I've been feeling like I'm losing grip on what I know. Between the distances I've gone and all those places left to go. And I was hoping maybe this time I could head up north, leave that awful past behind me.

And when the sinews break and the heart sinks to the stomach, I feel a retching in the back of my throat.

I told myself it didn't matter.
I wouldn't feel it anymore.
That I wouldn't look back at the bridges that I've torched.
Things always seem to work out for the worse."

It's disheartening that you're sharpening all your knives to break your skin. To gouge out deeper, to cleave disaster, to carve out canyons with your hands.

And your heart's pacing and your mind's racing while you're retracing every scar with a pen. What a nervous itch that you hope to quit. The knives you hope to ditch weigh on your mind again.

You know these epidermal lies, they're just artificial highs just to help you get by but it's not the same as finding a new will to live and finding one more hope to give in every single cut you did just to keep you sane

These medications that you're taking: they're not keeping you from breaking. They're just filling you with anger, a bitterness and a resentment

And it's not shocking that your pill popping has got your heart stopping. You feel like dying once again. What a nervous itch that you hope to quit. The pills you hope to ditch weigh on your mind again.

Your decisions left incisions. But let's not talk about it. Let's just forget about it

We both want to point fingers. We refuse to take blame. We adamantly deny it. And in this sense, we are both the same.

But there are motions in our sickness
   (Or rather sickness in our motions)
Indecent murmurs of our shame
But the murmurs stay just murmurs so we can play our little game.

Of facade.
Of charade.
Of telephone lines.
Razor blades.

Emotion.
Commotion.

If there is one thing of which I am sure, of which I know,
Is that if love suffers at all then it suffers alone.

What's another sleepless night on the path to infinity? Here's to the pills to make me chill but still don't do anything. So I'm just staring at the inside of my eye lids watching the scenes of my life play out on my internal movie screen.

I see in vivid colors the memories that I thought I had let go, but were continuously burning from within me. Like the time I spoke venom and rhetoric at the loss of my notebooks and it was probably then and there that you fell out of love with me.

Or the moment you got too close so I shut down and refused to speak. Those times got more frequent and fraught with the fear to be open and honest but a liar I'd never be. So we sat in silence in the car like a sad film scene where it would rain, but we wouldn't cry, and so you fell out of love with me.

And if there's a demon in me, he's learned to speak in silver lined tongue and in prose and in rhyme and to paint pictures with words so he can pretend he's free. But I'm still haunted by the actions and the fears of a scared and tired little heart housed in chain and ice and it's when these fears came to life: I learned I'll never be free and so I fell out of love with me.

Diamonds mean nothing to the gleam that's in your eyes.
Stars don't shine as bright and they fall right out of the sky.

And though it's clear, my dear, that the smile still fades away.
You're off to better things but we'll meet again some day.

I saw the world burn but still you stayed the same.
A source of comfort as I slowly went insane.
Eight years and counting and it's still you on my mind.
I've kept it hidden, but I'd say it all this time.

I would say I love you.
Won't you say the same?
I would say I love you,
But I hate you anyway.

Won't you come home and save me from tomorrow?
I've become so numb, won't you come and save me

My eyelids paint a picture that I just can't recognize and I thought at once, dear, that it was you here- but now I see that it's just sorrow in disguise.

And I am bothered by the slaughter that her hands and wrists and knives and heart had cost her. She said that this time would be the last time, but she still cuts herself to ribbons in her free time.

She said, "I don't care anymore." She said, "This life for me is stale and growing cold." She said, "I'm not fine, but I can't find why I should care anymore.

I've had as much talk about fear and distraction as I can react to before I start going numb.

Between secondhand smoke and lies in the bedroom, these serenades to no one start to feel rehearsed.

But she said, "I don't care anymore." She said, "I'm sick and ******* tired of being bored." She said, "I'm not blind, but I can't find why I should care anymore.

She said, "I don't care anymore." She said, "I never wanted much but to feel loved." She said, "You were the last good thing in this world left to me. But now you're gone and I can't care anymore."

No view from my window.
The clouds blanket the night sky.
Color me shades of gray.
The steam rises up
from the asphalt of the streets.
Beckoning me not to stay.
A distant rumble.
Lightening cracks over my head.
Thunder breaks as if to say.
'You're down for the moment.
Begging the silence.
But just get up today.'

She said 'I know there's a riot
going on up in your head,
but there doesn't have to be.'
She said, "You've been distant.
A little resistant.
But just come back to me.'

She's still waiting.
'I'm still fading.'
'So hold me now.'
'Have no regrets.'
'Don't let me down.'

I see her smile for the first time in so many days.
I think she thinks that I can be saved.
From myself, from what's left in my head.
She's saying sleep, but I stay awake instead.
This helplessness advances and there's no second chances.
I'm left here by myself.
She sits patiently.
She promised she'd wait for me.
She hasn't left me yet.

I've paced around in empty parking lots with myself and a guitar. And I spent almost 9 years thinking about you. And now you're gone.

And everybody says the same thing. They say they think I've lost my mind. And I was counting stars on the overpass, baby. But I was just wasting time.

She said, "Boy, you almost had it. But you were just too blind to see." She said, "Right when I wanted you was when you gave up on wanting me."

She told me I wrote too many uncomfortable poems. Said I was too busy being alone. She asked me why I never seemed to notice how she sang along to every unhappy song.

Her eyes gazed off in to nothing and I knew I should have said something but I didn't say anything at all.

It was all private screaming but was masked as day dreaming but she left and she didn't say a word.

How long might this last before
The future now becomes my past?

When old men's thoughts are wasted
Because the love they never tasted

Makes all of our lives splinter
Like a tree in the mid winter

And the cold frost comes to cover
My heart that some how loves her

I wish that I could tell you
Of all my love that has befell you

These howling winds are calling out in disbelief between the leaves in the trees and those weeds around your name.

These howling winds a-rattle my bones and this pouring rain never seems to end and these tiny rivers carry dirt from your bed on to my shoes.

You always looked so elegant in white and marble white suits you well, or so it seems.

These howling winds carry melodies somber and forlorn upon their backs and sending chills up my spine.

These howling winds scream at me in howling tones, "C'est la vie! Such is life!"

And I'll howl back.

I'm watching Donnie Darko with the lights on
And I'm thinking about all my old friends
And how I've wasted all these years, but I coped with most of my fears, and you know: things seemed different then.

And if you fall apart, the bottom is a good place to start when you have to pick yourself back up again.
And if you're falling down, when you hit the ground, give it a kiss and realize this: you know, it's not too late to be the end.

And I fell in love with all the things that make me human. I forgave myself and everyone else too. And I stopped looking for the answers. They're still there, but they're different for me and you.

And if someone tells you no one cares, please know that that's not true.

And so we keep waltzing in, walking out, and hardly keeping up with our lives. And I can't say it's fair to you or to me but when we talk we're really just sitting quiet. Like the damage was done and then healed but left us scarred and alone. Are we so disfigured from this relationship that it will keep us so afraid of love?

And when that love turns to hate or just disdain and maybe apathy, can we keep it all quiet and think "this surely isn't happening." To me, my friends, and my life, and the ground beneath me all are shattering. And if you're feeling the same, can we be missing out on everything?

Why is it always this way between the people who care and myself and all these walls I place? Why can't I look you in the eye and say you matter but my actions aren't reacting straight?

And so you'll say your goodbyes after waltzing in, you're walking out. Don't keep touch.