She said she's got way too much blood in her bloodstream.
She said she'd let a little out and she'd feel fine.
She said these razor blades are the closest thing to best friends.
And she's just rehashing all the same old lines.

She's not one to quit but now she's giving up.
I told her that I love her but it wasn't enough.
If nothing has changed, then why aren't things still the same?
If nobody was listening, then who the hell's to blame?

What the **** are we waiting for?

Her tattered skin is a testament to old friends.
And the hell they put her through before they left.
She said of all the things she loves, she loves those knives best.
She said it was a love she wouldn't ever second guess

You've been silent now for days on end.
And I just hope you're happy with all the hope I can give.
But I still think about you every single night.
And I wonder if I'll ever get this right.

I write too many sad songs.
I think too much about death.
And these feelings so familiar
And how she'd cut her ******* wrists.

Everything I've known has just disappointed me but I can't let these disasters keep on defining me.

I keep on writing
to continue hiding
myself from the fears of failure and regret

but I've been fighting
while agonizing
over what by now I thought I'd forget

like those stupid moments
the disappointments
when each word gets more stifled than before

it's evanescent
the coalescence
the sinews carrying my heart have torn

were we ever happy?
I'm just asking
because I don't know if we ever were

just placating
the soul from hating
but it never really seemed to bother her

Give me passion soaked in remorse and sweat between these empty venue walls and all your burned out cigarettes, thinking "oh God, I've seen it all."

I forgot the melody I've been singing up and down these God forsaken halls and I've been feeling down and out, it ain't the same now since you've gone.

It ain't the same.
Since you've been gone.
It ain't the same.
Since you've been gone.

And I was kind of hoping this time I would come around.
And I was kind of hoping this time I'd stop freaking out.
And I was kind of hoping that this time I'd stop hoping for anything worth hoping to finally come around.

You and I have hands of bone. And when the darkness comes, we are all alone.

To,
Who knows? For everything. And nothing.

I was asked to write a poem about insecurity.
And how to get over it.

Like a poem could supplant the search one has to do of himself.

And I was told to be subtle.
To be symbolic.

I had to make sure that the poem had direction.

So I decided to write a letter instead. And to be blunt. And to be literal.

But I'll keep the direction.

So, to:
Who knows? For nothing. And everything.

Stop thinking of insecurity as a transgression against yourself. You dwell too much and I can't imagine it's healthy.
Everyone is riddled with self doubt and the worry. It's the human condition. And by it, it means you are human. And you are, thusly, conditioned.

I think you lack ambition. And not that you're lazy. Or don't have high hopes. I just think you're content. But aren't we all? It's the human condition. And by it, it means you are human. And you are, thusly, conditioned.

I think we confuse self doubt, that feeling with which we feel we are incapable, and lacking ambition, that feeling with which perhaps we are too tired, too empty, too busy, too over simplified, too overly complex, too full of excuses. It's the human condition. And by it, it means you are human. And you are, thusly, conditioned.

And maybe that's not true. I'm not a philosopher. Not a psychiatrist. I'm not a self help book. I'm not even really well adjusted. I am woefully ignorant of most things. It's the human condition. And by it, it means I am human. And I am, thusly, conditioned.

Perhaps, it's not about getting over insecurities. Perhaps it's about how to make the world a place where we aren't conditioned to feel so insecure.

If there is beauty in humanity, surely it is in the imperfections and the fears and doubts that coincide.

I believe that we are meant to change in the world the things that terrify us. The things that break our hearts.

Find that.

From,
Chagrin Masked as Empty Bravado

It's funny how time has a way of changing things but it never changed the way I felt about you.

And oh, how everything about our relationship seemed to be hopelessly lost. And how the ending had to be, inevitably, tragic.

It was obvious that no amount of ink, nor paper, would suffice in any effort to hold us together. No notebook of words to define or describe ( or attempt to) the feelings both mutual and unshared would have ever been enough.

And so now letters sit, piling up, in notebooks and on countertops. Inside desk drawers and in trunks of cars and trash cans. The poetry trickles slowly on to paper or phone messages.

And if it's true that I wasn't enough or that you weren't the right one anyway, then I guess there's nothing to be sore at; neither of us can shoulder the blame.

I suppose, in the end, everything falls apart.

I did.

I'm done hoping that you're choking on every single thing you ever did. I'm regretting my forgetting that I loved you more than I could admit. And it's troubling that your bubbling over with words seem to have stalled. I would tell you, if it could save you, I don't think it's your fault

I used to play you songs when you were feeling down. But now you're not around. Now you never hear a sound.

I've filled notebooks up but I trash them every fall. You never ever call. No you never talk at all.  

And if we're honest for once, I don't think that we could call each other "friend." What a stupid way to end.

But I've got no more ***** to give.
I've got my life to live. And I can't help but to hate you. And I know I should move on. But I still write you songs. And I can't help myself but to love you.

And if I've had hope then I guess it's gone and it's not ever coming back.

You left and now you're gone and I am all alone. But now alone just feels like home. And alone is what I know.

And I remember times, when our hopes were all alive. How you set my soul on fire. How you never said good bye.

And if we're honest for once, I don't think we could know: just how things go. That was a long time ago.

And I know that there's no need to stay, I might as well just go.
But you know that I know that I just want say that I've got

Are you burning out for answers?
Have you finally given up?
Did you think you'd ever find them?
When is enough enough?

Your burning fire's fading.
Your light is dimming down.
There's nothing left of valor.
What goes around comes around.

And I believe I'm sick of me.
All these fads. And all these popular magazines.
And I believe I'm sick of me.
I'm so tired of not knowing what to

Be alone. It's all we've ever known.
But all we know. It falls apart.
Singing on and on. I've known it all along.
But now I see that everyone here's gone.

But it isn't me you're seeing.
Halo. Lights. My ears are bleeding.
Waiting for a sad song to begin.
Lost in thought, my head is screaming.
Warning signs and empty feelings.
Thinking of the things that could've been.

And I believe I'm sick of me.
All ****** up and I'm just trying not to

Be alone. It's all we've ever known and all we know just falls apart.
Singing on and on but everything went wrong
And now I know that all of you are gone.

I've been killing time and dreaming up nightmares and pretending that I don't care that you're gone though you meant everything.

You've been dreaming easy and killing off your fears. You're not faking a smile this time. You can shine through almost anything.

So alone since the moment you left dear. And I won't see you 'til next year. By the way I wrote a song for you.
The line is in the dirt and I think that I could cross it. Times' short, so make the most of it. Now that you're here, it's so unreal to me.

I've been counting scars like stars in the night sky. And watching life passing me by. I can't care when you're not around.

Your scars are fading out and stars shine brighter. Still you question all your self doubt. Don't you know it's not worth anything?

I close my eyes and cover my ears and start the screaming. For what it's worth all of my pleas are incoherent.

I'm terrified that now you've left me that soon you'll just forget me and I'll just be all alone once again.

And I fear that when I call you that you will just ignore it and I'll just be talking to myself once again.

I'm giving you this heart in the hopes that you may keep it and I pray it won't get broken once again.

And when I'm missing you most my dear, I'm wishing for you home and I'm afraid that I'll just be all alone once again.

I've got a misguided belief that everything will be alright. But I still brood in disbelief almost every single night. So I sit in my room- teeth clenched and eyes closed. And think about the things about you I miss the most.

How you smile even though everything's gone to hell and how I get depressed when things are going twice as well. About you laughing in the car about some offhanded remark that I made when the piece of junk wouldn't start up.

I said I'd wait for you here
I'm rooted to this spot forever
It seems I'm stuck here in this place
Until the sky is falling.

She said you never write of falling in love. And I could only reply I write about things I know. Like losing trust and cutting wrists and breaking bones and being depressed.

And she told me to write about something else. And she said that it might help. So I'm writing this instead. But her voice still rings in my head.

But I'm not waiting for the answer. I'm not hanging around for this.

I wasn’t there, but I still see that image of you in the front seat of your car. The lights were on and it was a hot and humid morning; the sun was just coming up.

I remember that hollow feeling in my chest and the knots in my stomach when she told me in the doorway of the office; it’s that same feeling that I get.

I made phone calls to all our old friends to make sure they heard it from a familiar voice than read it in cold, dead words from a screen.

Mike asked if I was kidding, but remarked I would never joke like this. I heard the faintness in his voice. I heard the aching on his breath.

I was dressed in black that Saturday morning sitting patiently behind that wall that separated me from my friends. The guitar sat idly on the ground; my hands trembled from the anxiousness.

I stood up in front of the most people I’d ever seen in one place. I looked out and saw so many familiar faces that I hadn’t seen in years. And I lamented to myself that it had been so long, and it’s been even longer still.

My shaking hands strummed out a simple song my voice croaked with regret; but I sand that song for you, my friend, and I’ve played it only

Once.

Since.

I chose music over my friends and now I don't have a single one left. I guess what I'm saying is you meant more than music ever did.

And it's a bit ironic how these words become the next song. And I wrote them to replace all the friends I've already lost.

And I'm trying. Maybe I'm dying. I can fake a broken heart as a symptom.
And I'm hoping that you're choking on all your dreams and aspirations.

And I know you're not the one.
And you know I'm not the one.
And I know you're not the one I'm looking for.

I fell in love here. I'm getting old dear. I was talking to myself about nothing.
I am gone now. So, so long now. And you're nodding off to sleep in the morning.

I was dreaming. So please forgive me. Because I know not a single thing can ever last.

And we're crying. Maybe we're dying. And we can't care enough to even care now

I'm concerned about my general disposition towards things like life and death and apathy. And how I can't seem to care about the future. And about how much the past is affecting me.

And I can't stop thinking about how the people that surround us stop and think of me. I can hear their whispered voices talking and I wonder if they can sense the worst in me.

Give me the best of whatever you’ve got
Take that last drag of your last cigarette
**** my heart up and laugh
Break my heart as you dance
Give me a night I won’t ever forget

This is the last chance to leave it alone
Bumming a ride so that we can get home
Tear this letter to shreds
Make your home in my head
You won’t stop ‘til the feeling’s all gone

And I guess what I said is, “I think I’ve had enough.” She said, “You’ll regret it all. You could have had it all.

And I guess what I said is, “I think you had too much.” She said, “I’d never take it back.”

“I’d never take it back”

We make excuses, not progress
And the hint of the dawn is killing us

And it's the horizon glow
Behind trees and skylines and ways home
And it's the way that the sun sets and sunrise
Through windshields look to my eyes

Like no one is watching.

I hope that you're watching.

I guess sometimes the words get caught on my tongue
Amid the torrents of thoughts that only massacre the outcome
Like I'm choking on the only words that seem important
The "I love you's" and "you matter" get lost in the indifference

And I've tried writing you a letter, but my head gets lost in my heart's confusion.
So I just sit there staring blankly at the paper right in front of me
The words just come so slowly and I wait for them impatiently
The sun sets and I still try to write something for you perfectly.

The sun rise through my windshield isn't anything as pretty as your blue eyes

My whole generation is getting laid down in caskets. We're leaving the scene in body bags on our road to Damascus. Being buried by parents while grandparents attend service. And I can't help but to think that the future makes me nervous.

We're just waiting for the world to end but the world's not ending.

My whole generation is getting lost in translation. Between these ******* self help books and ******* antidepressants. At one time the future seemed bright but now I'm just too ******* tired. A generation that feels nothing; coldly embraces indifference.

I know you wanted more than feeling empty

Wake me when it thunders and when the storm rips the sky asunder. And we will wait for the current to pull us under.

And oh! You plunderer of souls, are we not foes? At least foils? Standing on the helm of the dichotomy of the world

And when you come back:
   Come back broken
        Come back beaten and forlorn

I won't feel pity
I won't feel much
I won't feel much of anything anymore

And all the letters, all the time I've spent alone
Has left me angry
Left me bitter

Has cut me deep and to the bone

I think I’ll just sit here
brooding so quietly
in contemplation, 
indifference washing over me.

I've  been sitting
on cracking pavement
all **** day.

Bored to tears, but I’m just full of being empty.

I won’t feel this. I won’t feel this sting.
I’m not feeling much of anything

And I say “Love is just a lie, formed to get us by.” You said “Its too soon. It’s just too soon to trust you."

And as I look up
to this skyline we no longer share,
I can’t help but to feel like
maybe I just no longer care.

Maybe that’s too easy.

But I’m taking the easy way out.

Maybe, just maybe, there’s nothing left to care about.


Things aren’t the same.
I don’t feel pain.


I’m just not feeling a god ****** thing.

This silence between us,
broken by the sound
of the rain on the rooftops.

This aching in my bones,
like they’re splintering under the weight
of this collapse.

The sun
doesn’t warm my skin like it should; nothing is left to fill this void.
It’s a new dawn.

Echoes
of tired footsteps through a desolate, empty town
reverberating off concrete walls and asphalt
but somehow never make a sound.

Ruminate
on this discord, the situation that we’re in - an impasse and it's a disposition that’s wearing thin.

I’m so used to writing sad songs
But I’m not sad anymore.
I stopped letting those disasters
Define me to the core.

And I’ve been content with what I’m doing;
No longer bruised, no longer sore
From this hard beating I’ve endured
(From this heart beating I’ve endured.)
And I’m not sad anymore

I’m so tired of writing sad songs
I can’t shake these feelings I’ve ignored
Like when I fell to pieces in the bedroom
Or when I passed out on the floor.

I was broken and alone
But you felt like home to me.

And you felt like home to me
And I’m listening to those songs I wrote when I was seventeen
I never thought I’d let that go
And so I think that you should know

That you feel like home to me

I’ve got years of feeling empy and
I’ve got friends buried in the ground-
If these feelings last forever,
Can you please not let me down?

Run up that concrete flight. Assess the scene and know that’s it’s not alright.
And push the hair aside - like moving ivy out of the windows of those glassy eyes.

Check for that heartbeat sign. The steady rhythm that helps determine if you’ve still got time. But it’s the pulse that you just can’t find. Nothing but the the bloodrush beat behind an aching mind.

So cover what you can with a jacket to keep from prying eyes. Let out a tremble and a silent sigh. Pick him up and take him out of sight and know that things won’t ever be alright.