These dead stares across the shopping mall
Wouldn't I care if I could have them all
Fingerpainting these eyes
**** photos: camera shutter sighs

But her breath is morse code
And my words are falling
Her dial tone dilates
As her moans are calling

She fell in love with a filter
And I fell in love with someone's daughter
We took pictures in the summer time
And she threw them into the water

When she lies, her cheeks flush
She swears that she doesn't care much,
as she sits in her underwear
with a light grin and a heavy heart.

She felt her pulse by the bed light
She was sad that she was alright
I watched her paint her dad on fire
while holding infant her.

I heard the window shatter
She never said what was the matter
I found her on the driveway,
broken like a family picture frame

I can hear your back crack,
in the dark.
Removing your underwear
with chewed fingernails:
You softly ask
if we can share scar tissue
and if I'll stay
despite every issue.

You try to kick the covers
off of our bed,
and ask if we can share the thoughts
buzzing inside of your head.

When insomnia erases your eyes
and disease steals your brain:
You inhale ways to die,
because you still dream
but it's not the same.

I can hear the static in your skull.
I know why you keep
the kitchen knives dull.
You pull on my fingers
so I don't forget you.
You cry on the pillows
and hope I like romance too.

I kiss your temple
during each thunderstorm.
I read you books in bed,
because your eyes are worn.
I put my ear to your chest
because I want you to see
that the air you breathe
means everything to me.

Hard to miss, you can take me home.
I'd rather be anyone than to be alone.
Marlboro-stained teeth
have my lips controlled.
Don't mistake the chemicals
for our souls.

I move with the waters inside your ribcage.
Because when I drown in you,
it's the perfect place.

Softly, please, taking off our clothes:
I can see the kisses that have left holes.
You've been acid-washed
by love that wasn't stronger.
Take off your armor,
so you can stay here longer.

Your face is as cold
as the place I found you in.
You can let go of the hurt
trapped beneath your skin.

I keep warm in your fire that beats fast.
To be alone with you, it to be, at last.

Hard to miss, I will take you home.
You can be anyone, rather than be alone.
Remove your shoes, but not your heart.
You can stay here, as our world falls apart.

Possibility A:
I still love you-
(Hip Hip Hooray!)
I pretend that I'm okay,
but I'm not the same soldier...
...now that I'm older.

It's all in vain,
turning on the porch light.
And it's only right,
that I dream that you would come home,
or change overnight.

Love overall
relates to a prescription thrill:
I want to feel good,
as long as it doesn't ****.

Under the tree,
doused in gasoline.
I would have burned for you
for however many rings.
For however many rings.

Possibility two:
I would have loved you,
the best that I could,
until my lungs would collapse.
And I would have pulled you
out of the car crash.

But I watched blood stain,
while trying to save you.
But it was washed by rain,
as you grew blue.
I didn't know what to do.

I waited for the ambulance,
the sirens blue and red.
Did they know that I loved you?
Did I know you were already dead?

Your breath still lingers,
swarming in the night air.
And I still feel your fingers-
God, it isn't fair.
God, it isn't fair.

And you would have loved me,
under falling tree branches.
And I would have kept you warm,
after avalanches.
After avalanches.

I would have kissed you,
as the snow crushed.
And I wouldn't have missed you,
if my hands rushed.
If my hands rushed.

Possibility last:
It's all in the past.

It's
all
in
the past.

On top of a stained mattress
There is no love,
just oxycodone-loading-
and memories, "Tender, please"-
take ten of these-don't fake a dose
because I am close.
I am close.
I am close to you.

I feel okay, I feel okay
Well, I don't know-I don't show.
"Wait, don't go."
I feel okay, I feel okay

We don't show, no.
"Wait, don't go."
There are only memories
of when we were young guns.
We are too true-
take your oxycodone-
and it's terrifying.

On top of a star,
"You'll go far."
I love you enough to go to L.A.-
I feel okay, I feel okay-
Take your oxycodone
to get through the day.
And kiss me goodbye
before you try
to swim through the stratosphere,
my dear-it's clear.
It's near.

"Wait, I want to say-
before I slow motion
this emotion
that starts with a commotion
in my chest-
that I love you best
and it hurts to let go,
but it's not because of you.
I didn't know.
I didn't know what to do.

And it's true,
and that's what makes it terrifying.
My world is salt,
my sluggish love.
So, take your oxycodone,
because you don't want to feel what I feel.
And you don't want to reel like I reel."

I feel okay, I feel okay
Well, I don't know-I don't show.
"Wait, don't go."
I feel okay, I feel okay

We don't show, no.
"Wait, don't go."
There are only memories
of when we were young guns.
We are too true-
take your oxycodone-
and it's terrifying.

"...schizophrenic kisses in a reflection."

Fade in.

My eyes stick to one another like two slices of wax paper with faltering, yet desperately unable to let go of graveyard-shift-love adhesive.

Shifting sides inside. Shifting sides inside.

I stare at my naked body, as water, or something like it, rains from my head to my feet. Warm. Out of control. Gathering by the drain, mixing with the thoughts that won't fall asleep and the daydreams reserved for night.

My eyes are encased by the steam. My lungs filling with water or something like it.

I hope for a classic horror scene or a twist in a melodramatic rom-com. But nothing is funny nor scary and there is no Norman Bates or Meg Ryan. I am not Billy Crystal. I am unrequited love and future fame stemmed by heartbreak and three thousand miles of, "Please let me forget the broken heart I left in a hotel, by the shore, on the east coast, on a pit of dried firewood, in my parents' home, in my bed, in every book I didn't finish, in every sentence I should have finished."



Fade out.


Wake up.
Wake up.
Wake up.
Josh, how many oxycodone did you take?

I fell asleep after "Good Morning, Vietnam":

I can feel it all, in your hair.
Under trees.
Flying above the stratosphere.
My arms extended.
The skin burning off my torso-
struggling to breathe,
with a smile on my face.

(Canned laughter)

You're in a living room.
You are me.

I dug into my chest and petted my heart.
Groaning, the blood swam around my hands
and ate it's way up my forearm,
to my elbow,
to my neck,
to my chin,
to my lips.
"I can ******* blood,"
an internal piece of dialogue.

She whispers in your ear,
"I know who you are."
I am you.

I cut my voice on the air, calling out for her.

Why'd you abandon me?
I love you so ******* much.

Why'd you abandon me?
I love you so ******* much.

(Canned laughter)

Why'd you abandon me?
I love you so *******-

You are in my room.
I am you.
We are everything,
and we are nothing.

That's my mirror.
It's shattered.

Hey, there I am on the ground.

There's a brunette, mediocre poet.
It's shattered.

And on my hand are specs of heated sand,
sleeping in my skin-
a glass garden.

How can one find schizophrenic kisses
in a reflection.

(Canned laughter)

I said, "How can one find-"

I tried crushing each memory like a shortening cigarette, but it's easier to allow yourself to die than to forget.

I stood in front of the mirror-the wall behind me scribbled in green-and I watched myself shave the weathered, brunette hairs off my cheeks, chin, lips, and jawline that you found so attractive and wrapped your lips around like a future reunion of, "Hi. I'm sorry for goodbye. I'm glad I met you again before I thought I would die."

And, in my head, I watched you approach my lips with yours.
And, in my head, I took a step back and started to tear up.
You asked me to kiss you, in my head.
And I shook my head, in my head.
You said you were sorry and got help, in my head.
You were better, in my head.
You were healthy, in my head.
But I'm aware some things may only live and die and say goodbye in my head.

I sat on the edge of my bed, no longer in my head, watching "Good Morning, Vietnam", and I remembered where I was when I learned that Robin Williams died. I remembered poking your thigh, in Starbucks, and wondering how long it'd take you to feel my finger or if you'd try to ignore the feeling, like most feelings. Your lips were red and your pants were black and on white, were black cats. And you were afraid to ask for your coffee. And once you sipped on your coffee, you left a red stain and it still appears in my head. And I relive every thing while being dissacioiated with my current life. And every kiss is a red stain in my head. Oh, great, we're back in my head. I guess we never left.

And I remembered when I knew you were dying and leaving and when I knew you had died and left. But I drowned those memories in ***** and suffocated them with smoke, until my body collapsed and until my lungs learned the cursive in every exhale.

In my head.
In my head.
In my head.
In my head.

Here I sit in the dark, watching 80's films. Because thirty years ago, there was no you and there was no me. I imagine it was a simpler time for the both of us.

A time where we never met.
But I'm glad I met you.
A time where we never kissed.
But I'm glad I kissed you.
A time where I didn't say,
"It's okay.
It's okay and it's always going to be okay
because I love you too."

It's not okay. It's not okay. Itsnotokay.itsnotokayitsnotokayitsnotokayitsnotokay

Tomorrow I will wake up, put on a t-shirt, boxers, socks, jeans, worn out Nikes, and a beat up flannel. I'll check my pulse, as I do my vitals, and I'll take my medications. I'll look at my bank account and determine how much money it'll take to forget you and how much more I wish I had so I could help you.

Is there a simpler way of saying I love you, or should I continue writing this album?

My antidepressants don't work
the way I want them to.
I tried to imagine watching each film
with anyone but you.

Your flickering eyes,
they project the world.
Hidden reels
inside your soul.
There's too many people
inside your bones.
You don't have to be
in your theatre alone.

I forgot how to sleep
under the same ceiling.
I watch movies in the dark
to remember the feeling
that made me confide in her.
My eighties film.
My Winona Ryder.

There's too many people
inside your bones.
You don't have to
be in your theatre alone.

Five after dawn
and your movie's still on.
Christian, **** the popular kids,
because they don't understand
how her brain works,
how her glances steal,
how each death
can't make her feel.

Your flickering eyes,
they project the world.
I watch movies in the dark
to remember the feeling
that made me confide in you.
My eighties film.
My Winona Ryder,
let me forget you.

Maybe you're crazy
with your cleaner.
Maybe each swing of the mallet
made you meaner.
Maybe reality bites because of Heather.
Maybe it scared you that we were in love, together.

Maybe it scared you to stay together.
Maybe it scared you to stay together.