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.

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?

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.

My father said, "Son, your poetry is technically proficient and you certainly have mastered style, but you just say the words outright. You don't hide the meaning behind guile."

He told me that poetry was for interpretation of the reader, I was just to merely guide feeling but it was up to the reader to have to think.

Well, Dad. I think I'll have to disagree.

For me, poetry was a way to confront my fears of failure. To say the words I couldn't speak. To handle the loss of friends and family. To cope with the things that make me weak.

I suppose what I'm saying, Father, is I think poetry can be a narrative, just like any prose. So I'll keep writing the way I do, and hopefully it'll be good enough for you.

And if I'm wrong, I won't be great. I will fade into the obscurity of eternity, but somehow that seems satisfactory to me.

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.

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.

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.

You said you'd like to start again and maybe then you could feel fine and maybe you would be less afraid if this were a different life.

I was hoping you could forgive yourself for all the things you thought of but didn't ever do but you kept wearing away at yourself until there was nothing left of you.

I know that you'd sell your soul to any agent of change if they could give you what you needed most, but instead you waited in vain.

You left here on a north bound plane, never to be heard from again but I like to think you found your peace and a whole new life to begin.

We sat in half lit empty corners in the basements of friends' houses
Wondering where these thoughts would take us, but they only brought me down
I feel an emptiness now, I felt that same emptiness then
We sang of all our petty anger that we thought would never end

But see, I've shouted out from rooftops, and at the top of my lungs
Spitting blood and venom from the most poisonous of tongues
We felt our sudden death encroaching, felt it pushing us aside
Dragging us by our wrist, and setting love on fire

We're burning down the lie we've been believing that we're never burning out

We're breaking bones, but we're not dying, breaking hearts but we're not crying
Breaking down, we're breaking out, we're breaking free from our desires We're ******* up, we're getting ******, but I know we're not giving up
Not giving in, we're spitting in the face of faith, love and denial

We were waiting for a life time for a life well worth our time
But all we found were shades of gray in the corners of our minds
And so we hung ourselves from nooses as we were falling from the stars Crying out to heaven, screaming, “God, here we are.”

But I could swear He wasn't listening, I could swear He wasn't there
I was left quietly alone, alone in my despair

And so the prayers: they turned to silence, and that silence turned to anger
And my anger wore a bitter heart, and my bitter heart wore all my anger
So I fell away from hoping, and all my friends were strangers
And I knew that I was empty, and so stopped looking for the answers

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."

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.

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.

It's become exhausting being a caricature of a human. All at once, I'm too over-the-top to be considered normal and much to internalized to have real depth with the people I wish to have depth with.

And god knows, I've gotten better at being honest. Not that I was much for lying, at least in perhaps the most traditional sense of the word. But I certainly was incapable of having real human interaction. Maybe it was fear that kept me frozen and unable to communicate what I wanted most to say.

Surely, it was a defense mechanism. It's a lot harder to be disappointed by someone when you refuse to let them be close to you. And it's certainly a lot harder for someone to break you into insignificant pieces when you don't allow them any hold on you.

But somehow being distant because of the fear of people breaking you leaves you even more vulnerable to it. I lost ----- because I couldn't be a real person.

I lost you too.

And perhaps it's too late to make amends and say, "I swear I'm not quite as horrible a person as I've pretended to be. The caricature I've become is definitely not what I intended to be."

But I just want you to know that I'm trying to be honest. And I'm trying to be happy.

But I know I'll never let you know.

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.

I dug my nails into the dirt so I could tear the continents adrift to rid myself of the petty distances between us.

I kept pulling at the seams until the mountains started crumbling. Sweat drip, drip, dripping from my brow, but I'm still prying at the pieces.

Until at last I raised the oceans. High tide and high time, I pulled myself from the ocean floor.

If I let go, I would disappear.
There would be nothing left to keep me here.

I built castles made of sand and built them strong upon the shore. I laced in my fear of the ocean and of waters running cold

into the foundation and these walls; of these places I'd call my home, but can I really call it home when I'm feeling all alone?

Until at last I raised the oceans. High tide and high time, I pulled myself from the ocean floor.

If I let go, I would disappear.
There would be nothing left to keep me here.

We spit rhetoric in rhyme.
Who will save us this time?
There's nothing left to say;
I like it better this way.

All these midnight hours, I'm still alive
Catching fuzzies passing before my eyes
There's no great idea here, no! No metaphor
I'm catching fuzzies because I am bored

I have yet to catch one, no, not tonight
I'm catching fuzzies just to waste my time
The world passes me by, thinks I'm insane
I'm catching fuzzies, so I can't complain

Tired and frustrated, in all sincerity
I'm catching fuzzies to avoid humanity
The status quo of humans makes no kind of sense
I'm catching fuzzies to retain my innocence

Do something productive, tell me lots of lies
I'm catching fuzzies, instead of taking lives
Everyone lives with too much regret
I'm catching fuzzies just to prove what I have left

We need something to hold on to
So we don't have to forget
I tried to catch a fuzzy
But it slipped through my fist

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?

Always saying the wrong things at the right time

Or the right things at the wrong time

And I've ran through these conversations in my head.
Thought about every word and breath.

And how I could have somehow failed to mention that:

Dear, I love you.

And if it's not
Love

Then maybe it's something greater.

And perhaps it is.
Perhaps

It is

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.

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.

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

Gray streets where cracks marble the asphalt.
Long walks and each foot step echoes.
Dim lights casting shadow on shadow.
Headed northbound - southbound - every which way the road goes.

The chill wind questions in whispered timbre.
The leaves answer in their choir of rustled refrain.
The trees moan with a creak and whistling sway.
The body feels tired and if the heart feels nothing, it feels everything in spades.

Searching dark streets for the answer for everything.
And cracking knees and the clatter of rubber soles.
Hands in pocket to protect from the autumn cold.
And winter's coming, and I can feel it's death in the depths of my very soul.

Bitter biting of nose and with gnashing teeth.
I travel further in search of finding everything.
The wind breaks and leaves whistle and the cold sings.
To harken the demons of malcontent and of apathy.

So at crossroads, I scream and I beg and I plead.
I wrestle with these demons and with the cross I bear.
And if I can't find an answer, I do not think I can care.
So I'll trade these arms for wings to take me away from there.

All these lines in the pavement
Start to feel like home;
Like cracks in the foundation,
I've got fractures in my bones.

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.

There's a laziness with which you speak
There's an apathy
That seems so easy
Ambition is not part of your routine

We're not looking for excuses
     We're not looking for anything at all
We're not waiting for the end of times to be
Cause we're feeling restless
Feeling desperate
Can you feel this yet?

You lie awake at night counting sheep
Through bloodshot eyes; are you feeling weak?
There's a world outside of this
And it's crumbling quickly

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.

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.

Washed away by the waves of the vast sea,
I cannot help but to go with it, after all it’s only me.
In this world filled with life, an uncomfortable truth.
We cry in silent desperation, a different kind of youth.

We’re all self-aware, we see you standing there.
Nothing really matters if you never really care.
You want to have your peace, all your security.
You’d stay inside warm, while other people freeze.

So take a look around, what is it you're about?
Do you find you stand for nothing? You’re on falling ground.
So look outside, I dare you to look me in the eye.
Tell me with all your conviction that you’re really right

If hope is for the naïve, hold on to naivety.
If you really want to change something, you’ve got to believe.
But instead I see you there, so fine without a care.
You’re never going to change nothing a blank television stare

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.

I'd rather choose to die young than be stuck here forever taking pills and taking shots and hoping my heart will feel better. Taking chance after chance but it feels like I'm dying. Not from fear or disappointment but because my father is crying.

And if I feel disenchanted, I hope the feeling won't last forever. I've been choking on words that are the only ones that matter. And if you wait for me here, then I swear I'll come back to you waiting patiently but I just don't know what to do.

Or what to say or what to feel and if my heart is made of steel, then it's not broken, it's just rusting. It's just heavy on my mind. And all the drawings and the letters, and the praying I'll feel better. And I'm not breaking, I'm just bruising. And how I wish that you were mine.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

It's okay to stay today but not tomorrow cause everything is ****** up

You got something going on I can't place my finger on you. Keep talking and I'll just keep on keeping on. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

It's elementary and dear it's becoming clear to me. You're a fistful of rage and I guess it's kinda cool to me. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

You've got tons of secrets and god knows that I just forget. You have lots of soul and I know just as much regret. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

I know what you've been thinking. Not sure what you've been drinking but you're one of a kind. The kind that'll just be sinking. Turn the lights down low and now you gotta go.

We're going down in flames and
I'm trying to hold on but everything's just burning to the ground

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

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

We so often talk of breaking bones and slashing skin but never how to fix or deal with it. As if, in the back of our minds, we hold on to these sufferings. Because they're the things that make us feel human. And ain't it the only thing that matters?

And it's every breath, every finite movement of the hand against wrist. Every bit of our existence is a defiant stand against God. And it's God that has abandoned us. It is God who has left us all.

And so abandoned, self destructive, we break bones and slash skin. But we don't pray to God to save us. And we dare not trust our friends. Not our family. Not ourselves. We'll just wash away our sins.

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

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

My problem is that I have to play the devil's advocate incessantly. To the point where I turn the best of relationships on their heads and seed doubt into everything about it.

And I can't ******* help it, you know? Like, is it not bad enough to be self destructive? Do I have to be destructive too? Do I have to tear at the hearts and minds of people that love me?

Can't I just simply love them in return?

No.

I have to claw and mangle. Unappreciative and unimpressed. Emotionless and cold.

What a striking indifference. Is it a lack of self fulfillment? Is it just a masochistic need to push myself from others. Is it a plea for help? A cry for attention?

Does it even ******* matter?

So tell me dear. Assuage my fears.
That these tears don't flow in vain.
Your self harming is disarming.
Such an alarming way to cope with pain.

So I'm still waiting for your self hating to start abating but you won't listen.
And so you cry, afraid to die, the blood is dry. Still knife glistens.

So you wear wrist bands. Trace scars on your hands. Give into demands of your heart soaked in crimson. So draw the blade when the scars fade and don't you dare evade the questions.

Will you not come home? Are you not alone? Aren't we made of stone, of which will crumble? Is there too much strife to get things right? 'I hate my life,' she mumbles.

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”

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 know how it seems. I'm lost and empty and tearing at seams. I stare at walls and off into nothing. I know that I'm boring.

I'm just trying not to scream. At these strange feelings, when I'm not feeling anything. I'm afraid of myself again.

I know how it seems. I'm awkwardly tugging at sleeves. I don't like to speak. I know that I'm boring.

I know how it seems. I'm pacing my room again. I know how it seems. I've got a heart made of porcelain.

I'm afraid of its brokenness. I'm afraid of myself again.

I know that I'm boring.

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

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.