I can assure you
that you are not my first.
I have kissed and "love" before.
But what defines love?

I loved in a superficial way,
not caring about the rest.
But baby the way I love you
is not like another friend.

I can assure you
that you are not my first.
But I love you
like to no one else.

I feel strange when i'm with you,
Why i just feel this way with you?
You were not supposed to be the only one,
but perhaps you are the real one.

I can assure you
that you are not my first.
And baby i can assure you
that you are the real first.

Thoughts: they careen through my head like
cars in the midst of rush hour. I search for
one car in particular. My head is the foundation

of an unconstructed civilization, and I find myself
to be a tourist in the depths of my own mind. I
know all too well how easy it is for others to get lost

in the enigmatic chaos that is my head but I won’t
lose you. I am nothing, compared to the blinding lights
and insistent, blaring sounds, all warring for your attention.

I wander the streets with the sad, distant thought
that maybe I’ll glance up and find your headlights
slicing through the grey overcast. I’d even settle

for the looming red glow of your pretty, quiet
tail lights. But I know you’re long gone and your
lights are long out. The sad and beautiful part about

my mind is that I’m trapped here. And I believe I’d
still be searching for you, even if I didn’t want to. I’m
am a slave to my own thoughts, I am in love

with my mind’s creations. And while I’m well aware that
you are but a figment of my infinite imagination, I will do
everything I can to continue to believe in you.

I am merely a second of time, while you’re the hours
the days and the weeks; I am only for a moment and
you seem like an eternity. The people I pass on the street

know something I don’t - everyone seems to have
figured out how to live with their demons, while mine
like to play keep-away with my sanity. They look a lot like

you. Everytime you cross my mind it sounds a lot like
contorting metal and the shrieks of pedestrians. I suppose
we’ve got a lot in common with a car crash.

A car alarm stopped going off.
It's like being in a dream/nightmare,
seeing all these stupid faces,
seeing only faces you hate,
and after a while all
those faces look
alike.
Pressing palms against my head
and screaming till blood
shoots out of my nose;
I remembered a cold morning,
early enough to be night,
but late enough to be morning,
or maybe it was
early enough to be morning,
and late enough to be night?
I was staring at a grocery cart,
peacefully coexisting
with the parking lot
while I waited for the bus
with not a soul up and out
except myself.
I walked across the street
and kicked it over, and
kicked it a few more times.
I returned to my side of the
street unscathed [victorious].
I may have been late to work,
but I certainly didn't give a ****.
Some lady
coughed up blood
while I rang her out and
I think about suicide
out of habit now.
I'm a ghost that haunts itself,
except which tense is more real,
or did I mean,
who is more valid?

I love the light
the way colors appear before us
varying hues and shades and textures
vibrant or dull
but always alive
the way light bends around us
to reveal a reality
an illusion
I love the light
for showing me that a dark bedroom
is nothing to be afraid of
I love the light
for filling me with strength
for healing me
that blazing ball of gas we circle
some cultures worship it
and I can see why
light gives life
light gives color
light gives darkness
and excitement
light…
the promise of something fresh
something new
“got a light?”

And when in I'm sitting and remembering
The times you've lied
The times I've cried
That you've bled it dry
Sorry doesn't mean a single thing.

things we fear in life is
            when we are really alone



maybe to be alone is to be alive,


I WHISPERED softly to where noone could hear us,


I'm sorry that we are so lonely.