at some point in my life,
a bitter seed was planted in my veins -
or perhaps it had been there all along,
and its roots slowly raced toward my heart?
all i'm certain of is this;
i'm not the person i
used to be.
i've hurt too many people
and done too many unacceptable deeds,
and thought too many negative thoughts
to continue with my life at
this same
pace
in which i exist.

life's a whole lot more complex than
dreams, tea, and poetry.
maybe one day i'll wake up and realise
i'm not growing any younger.

in a town in which I've never been
you light a cigarette and try to smoke me out of your mind
while I sit here, my ashtray filled with pencil stubs
from trying to write my arms around you

I haven't slept since you left
I've spent my nights searching for the sun
for if I found it, I'd climb right on top
so I could be with you in the morning

but my mornings remain rivers after a storm
memories flowing by like debris
I can't reach them without falling in
so I stand and watch them go

its the watching I can't stand
watching your hand slip from mine
watching the wrong time
convince us that we can't be together

I feel helpless, hopeless
these days hold me prisoner
the hurt trying to torture remorse from my lips
but I will never regret the days I spent with you

when I was with you
you looked at me like there was no past or future, only now
you listened to me like I was Buddha preaching the Eightfold Path
you spoke to me like I was memorizing your every word, cause I was

you hugged me
you held me
you kissed me
like I’m a boy you had a crush on became I’m a boy who loves you

but here I’m a boy who misses you

as the wind blew us together,
the rain shall sweep us away
and come fall we’ll be leaves of different colors

i just want to tell you
that for how forcefully my gut protests at the thought of letting you go
I cannot hear its cries when I think of the time I spent with you

you took my heart in your hands, you broke it in and stretched it out,
and then you gave it back
here, you said,
it is ready

99 cent wars, rooftops, Gibraltar Screaming "god bless the fabulous" Christs;

In the eyes of years
Man is king only over that which breathes,
So let's throw hugs in the air,
sit on flowers and vanish to Cook stones on the hips of Cleopatra
with all of December's left footed children

For through the cried ***** tears of furry German banana caskets,
Eternity awaits
In the failures of our greatest triumphs,

So let's dance

After all, Psychological Wednesday societies
Are only good for curing Xbox manifestos and Tuesday sanities

And if we died one day,
it sure won't be yesterday.