My love;
you’ve told me you wish
to curl up inside my brain
and live amongst its thoughts.

But,
I am utterly convinced
that you constructed it as if
it were the great Pyramids,
and my thoughts as company;
would just be
a million copies of you.

I broke at the shore of the ocean
but lovingly embraced the sea,
let it wash away each stain of emotion,
but got carried away and ended up drowning.
While the surf invaded my airways
and the salt brushed to my skin,
my mind flooded with memories of the sun’s rays,
unconsciously my lips found a grin.

I outstretched my arms and pried apart my fingers,
survival instinct set off alarms, but the beat in my chest lingers.
I was pushed and pulled with the current, dragged away with the tide,
my fear of aquatic lifeforms should act as a deterrent, but I decided to enjoy the ride.

Do you see the invisible strings and lines
that intertwine each life and path?
The subtle clues and the flashing signs,
the chemistry and the math.
Sharing the same air and skies,
the same language and the same view.
Similar perspective through different eyes,
different soils but it still grew.

I stood firm and unmoving on a patch of grass that wasn’t green
and I failed to remember the only thing I tried to forget.
Flashbacks and hauntings of every back that I have seen,
walking away with head held high with no regret.

And my body still aches and trembles
with all the days lost it never seemed to retain heat.
But each day gains a shimmer of the past it resembles,
and now I’m warming up except my poor circulated feet.

Do you hear the silent music and unspoken words,
that tell a long story only two or three truly know?
Drowned out by passing cars and chirps of birds,
carried away gently with the wind’s blow.
Sharing the same air and skies,
the same language and same view.
Hand on left I promise to tell lies,
because even the promise wouldn’t be true.

I saw a vision in front me that day,
I didn’t even have to block out a single shadow, I didn’t have to try.
And I smiled unknowingly, not knowing what to say,
even so the words nestled in my throat, I choked but didn’t die.

I’ll gift a map, and I’ll provide clear and written direction.
I’ll mark off each trap, and reveal the secret route to avoid detection.

Spilled pill pieces
like crushed up Reese’s
I found my thesis;
in an empty stomach.
I formed some habits,
they reproduced like rabbits
and if I couldn’t stab it
I’d try to make it plumbic.
Decide to destroy at any cost,
I can’t hide or play coy; I’m my final boss.

I’m so messed up that I used to enjoy the battle;
while I lost, I lost to myself so I’d win.
Lamb to slaughter but too much guilt for the cattle,
maybe a sort of pacification that we can begin.
No cheat codes for this game we play.
All we sow is the seeds for another day.

Blurry scenes
and forgotten dreams,
no ends to a means,
but it started quite simple.
It began with quiet sighs
and tired bagged eyes
my grin would rise
but it seems I lost my dimples.
I was stumbling and swaying yet so lost,
fumbling while playing; I’m my final boss.

I was so messed up that I used to enjoy the game;
while I lost, I lost to myself all the same.
There’s no contra code and no extra lives,
no easy mode, no new game plus to replay twice.
No cheat codes for this game we play.
I keep wishing I could pause, wishing I could just stay.

There’s no save spot in sight,
no shrine and no campfire.
My hands gripping on so tight
my mind and my eyes tire.
I wished to be the hero of time,
always scared that I’d become a Ganon.
It took some work but my Zelda’s mine
I hope that ending stays canon.
But life is something that can’t be cheated,
destiny can’t ever be defeated.

My soul came back, quick like lightning,
and it's arrival was not welcome.
Sporting a fresh crack under whitening,
bound with a fate to always be numb.
Everyone desperately craves originality,
but they don't realize the isolation.
There doesn't seem to be a solid home for me,
amongst this dust and desolation.

Horror of hollow, living on the brink of life.
Tomorrow I'll swallow my words that cut like a knife.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
I hope the eruption satisfies your appetite.

The walls were tainted with love struck scribbles,
written in every colour of the rainbow,
so we painted but there still were dribbles,
I slept in a made bed and always reap what I sow.
What does it matter if it's in the past?
There's no reasons that I've found.
But I see a pattern of what doesn't last
and you know lately I'm always down.

You went to rub salt in my wound
I told you that I've had my fill.
You informed me the world was doomed,
and you were looking forward to the thrill.

Horror of hollow, living on the brink of life.
Borrow and follow the world's sense of strife.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
just because that's how you feel it doesn't make it right.

I never knew much about other souls,
until I watched one fall apart,
crumbling from all the cracks and holes,
stemming out from a broken heart.
I was never fluent in social clues,
the ones that tell you what you want to hear,
instead I'd sit silent ready to lose,
what I loved all due to fear.

Horror of hollow, living on the brink of life.
Explorer of wallow, bestfriend and a wife.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
I'll underline the tragedy and italicize my might.
I'll document the destruction and bring it to light,
but how will anyone know if it never makes it into sight?

You take it all out me,
want more than I could be.
What’s the difference between friend and foe?
How thick’s the line and how far does it go?
Handcuff me to my sins, they’re attached anyway,
I see the smirks and grins, can’t hold them off at bay.
The skies are grey, and that’s how they’ll stay,
until the next break of day.

One day I should sever the ties
if I wake up, suddenly clever and wise.
To hell with history,
I’ve got it all memorized.
It’s never been a mystery,
sweetness sprinkled with lies.
There’s no prize, no highs,
no compromise, just goodbyes.

What’s the difference between friend and foe?
I give the answers to questions I don’t know.
You say you care but it’s something you don’t show,
I doubt the sentiment’s there, but it deals a heavy blow.

You take it all out of me,
want more than I could be.
Draining my energy
till I can’t stand or breathe.
The skies remain so grey,
and that’s how they’ll all stay,
I’m fighting for one single sun ray.

One day I should sever the ties
if I wake up, suddenly not hypnotized.
To hell with history,
I’ve got it all memorized.
No note, just a list for me,
to advise but the size,
exposes your true guise.

I won’t even try to pretend,
that we both haven’t went off the deep end.
So what’s the difference between foe and friend?

One day I should sever the ties
‘cause you’ll never wake up or realize.
To hell with history,
I’ve got it all memorized.
And oh, how you’ll miss me,
when no one listens to your cries,
or your sighs, or your lies,
or goodbyes.

I’ve been holding you afloat,
trying to keep you from drowning
in your tears.
I know you secretly have a boat,
but you’ve actually been dead for years.

The Hallowe’en decor
has been put away for another year.
Christmas lights line each house and door,
illuminating every single tear.
The day of the dead has passed
but next holiday is one more for me,
since I’ve got the ghost of Christmas last
following me eternally.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

The wind’s slapping at my face
and there’s a chill biting at my bones,
and in every snowflake; a feeling laced
“in our own arms we die”; all alone.
My mother was the spring,
just like it; she couldn’t stay very long.
The breath of fresh air she would bring
until her own breath wasn’t very strong.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

No you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep regret out of a locked door.
It has been that way for centuries
and it’ll be that way for centuries more.

Poor old trees, I talk to them too much these days,
if they’re listening they know my voice, and they know my ways.
But it’s getting old, as I miss a soul, that could never be replaced,
trees have no arms, they have no heart and they have no face.

The grass is good to lie with, it’s such a faithful friend,
but it won’t stay green forever, only the days the sun can lend.
But when it’s there, thin and fair, you’re only on it for a while,
grass has no eyes, it has no laugh and it doesn’t have a smile.

The wind is such a comfort, it embraces you with the air,
but you’ll always be reminded that the protection isn’t there.
But when it aborts, all its support, you will find yourself so alone,
wind has no past, no family and it does not have a home.

The stars are such a shoulder, they’re there for all your tears,
they listen to your troubles and keep secrets of all your fears.
But they must leave, eventually, blocked by morning’s glow,
stars have no mind, they have no voice and they do not have a soul.

I’ll be the first to admit
I didn’t have much almost a year ago,
but I had you and you had me.
We had dug ourselves a hole so ******* deep,
even with a telescope scrounged from the garbage we could not catch any glimpses of the natural life above us.
But I held your hand in the darkness
and gave it reassuring squeezes to let you know we’d climb out eventually,
and if we failed, we’d have eachother in the darkness.
At some point I stopped feeling your hand squeeze back,
and within the darkness I could only conclude you had died.
That I was within a hole, I suppose a grave now,
refusing to abandon a decomposing corpse.
When your lips peeled back it revealed your teeth clenched together,
and I convinced myself it was a final smile, but really, I see it was gritted teeth of discontent and disgust.
You blamed me solely for the grave,
but we dug it together, and it only became a grave because you decided to give up instead of fighting for each day and the possibility it would bring.

Everytime we talk now, you leave me for the night to stew in the sadness
and loneliness, you initially left me to drown in.
But there’s a drought from the skies,
so I fill the hole with my tears,
and the blood gushing out from the wounds you gifted me.
I failed to realize those tender kisses where compressed, jaw locking bites into my flesh,
tearing open whatever jugular you had left with me after going after it.

You tell me about your current predicament since your soul
departed the grave and rejoined the land of the living.
It isn’t as great as you believed it would be, is it?
So why do I still feel obligation and sadness hearing about it?

You left me to fend for myself,
to pick up the pieces of the life
we had together that you shattered in a matter of an hour.
You didn’t feel remorse or responsibility for where and how you desserted me.
I’m just not that type of person.

You set what little I had left on fire.
Whether it was my structure,
my financial security,
my confidence,
and the pieces of myself I wished to give to someone more deserving.
Someone who could be there for me in a way you never wanted to be.
Someone who actually loves me and wants to climb out of holes with me.
And I just can’t now.

I don’t love you anymore.
Atleast, not the way I believed I did.
But why do I still feel protective and responsible
for the one who poured the gasoline
and lit the match,
and didn’t even bother to stay to warm their soul at my pyre?

I must be the biggest ******* idiot on the planet.

A note to men from a woman: I'm sure you're tired of reading these,
but this one is crucial, I won't blame you for every problem in this world.
But I'm asking you to read the whole way through please,
for we've all been told to be seen and not heard since we were a small girl.

When you approach us to talk, don't look at *** walking on legs,
and don't talk to us as if you'd speak to *** itself.
Don't tell us to dress nicer, 'cause then we'll feel like we're dressed in rags,
and feel that pressure to look for a man for wealth.
Not every woman will use you, but some will,
and not every man will **** us, but some do still.
Truth is, we are treated differently, but so are you,
but we get to pull our discrimination out of our pocket when it suits us best,
Pocket is a metaphor, some workplaces "suggest" wearing skirts and something to show off the chest.
Worst part is, most women then do.

When a man loses a job to a woman; no one bats an eye,
"They've got an equality quota to fill" and that isn't a lie.
I'm sorry for that standard, for whoever is qualified should get the prize,
but we've lived in a world of participation awards and protest cries.
That being said, we almost always work under or for you,
not every time, but most times, you know that's true.
I can't speak for the wage gap, for in Canada we all earn our wage from the same,
but every woman I speak to works harder and longer then the men around,
for myself I stress to go above and beyond for my own pride and name,
while the boys all laugh and talk sports into the ground.

When you want to compliment us, please try to think of something other than our appearance,
Something that doesn't equal "you are pleasing for MY eyes to see."
We'd never say "you look like you've got a good ****" though I'm sure you might want to hear it,
but wouldn't it be better to compliment each others manners, hard work or creativity?
Tell a girl she's beautiful on a date, 'cause that's when she tried to look nice for you,
not when she's living life, she isn't bait,
especially not in sweatpants with an up-do.

You can hold a door open for us, and we can hold a door for you,
We can all hold doors open for each other.
Chivalry is dead, but common manner's will do,
we should treat one another like a sister or brother.
"Men and women can't be friends"
Well to that, I say it's a lie,
and so is the message that it sends,
that we are just meant to procreate then die.

Final message to men, and this one is so common it's insane,
But when we are nice and smile, it isn't to flirt,
It's be polite and sweet, it's that simple and plain.
So sticking with being polite, I'm sorry if your ego is hurt.
Don't claim we lead you on by being nice,
and don't use the word friend like it's a bad thing,
'cause that just proves you're looking at us like a vice,
even if you think you wanted to give us a ring.
No matter what you do for a woman, or your relationship with her,
gives you the right to enter her body without her soberly saying yes,
Imagine if we entered your urethra with needles over and over,
that's the closest comparison I can think of, I must confess.

Now to my females: don't cry wolf when you make a mistake,
I'm not talking about victim blaming, I'm talking about taking it back when you regret it the next day,
'Cause that hurts a real case of violation and heartbreak,
just because you have a boyfriend or the guy last night now has nothing to say.
When a man calls you a *****, please don't you get angry,
It's a compliment in my eyes, cause you spoke your mind against his.
A ***** has a spine and a mind, and that *****'s mind is free,
I would change my name to *****, maybe in front of it with "Ms."

"That's just the world we live in."
"That's just the way things are."
I don't know about you, but I believe we can all win,
In changing it to "the way things were " in a future not too far.

For you see, we are not each others natural enemy,
The real evil in this world drew this idea with great creativity,
to distract both him and her, and you and me.
They organized it, exaggerated it, and flashed it on a TV screen,
to keep our attention away from what's going on behind the scene.

So to all justice warriors who are obsessed,
still hold your torches and pitchfork in hand,
'Cause truth is no matter what 99% of us are all oppressed,
and right now by targeting each other, we work into the 1%'s plan.
All genders and races, we are all allies,
Look into our eyes and faces, and you'll see the ties.
By keeping us fighting one group or the next after that,
We don't have the energy or attention to go after the real threat.
It'll buy them time, while we buy their production line,and their wallets grow fat,
and we'll remain their pawns in their game, and they'll have the coin to place their next bet.

This seed I’ve been tending and grooming,
sadly it misses the sun these days.
Yet I catch the vibrant flowers sprout and blooming,
it’s the strength not the amount of rays.
I’m not afraid to graze the dirt,
I need to reassure it’s fully hydrated,
softly brush the petals, I’d never see it hurt,
I could be offered palm and money trees but I’d never trade it.

Bringing life into each room
and in the darkest pits it provides a shine,
My heart beats start to rapidly boom,
you know that I know it will all be fine.

I buried a time capsule within my chest
though it was defined by a single memory,
I’m not absent minded just it was the best,
changing and morphing but it’s you constantly.
I’m not afraid to lose sight,
both literally and metaphorically,
as long as I can absorb this all day and night
It’s really the only thing that’s important to me.

Bringing light into the world
illuminating each route and sign,
diamond in the rough and deep sea pearl,
you know that I know it will all be fine.

For if she ever wishes for the moon,
I’ll bring down the whole galaxy,
and a second is just too long and not too soon,
she beats my heart and the air that I breathe.

And if she ever craves the stars,
I’d burn my hands to grasp though they reside in her eyes,
they’re the only thing that shines brighter than this love of ours,
and though her name is of the sea I see it etched in the skies.

I know I am stained with darkness and that itself makes me a crow,
and she’s the pinnacle of light and peace and that dawns her the place of dove.
And while we drive ourselves insane, we can’t deny fate and what we know,
that the dictionary has made a mistake,
darling, we are the true definition of love.

I’ve got a secret that lives in my head
no one knows of it, not even me.
It surfaces slow while I lie in my bed
I wish I could sleep peacefully.

Wind is biting my ear, my left side is ice cold,
I’ve turned numb; I’m not even tingling.
A lifetime of bronze and silver, finally received gold,
but to place around my neck; I’m still hesitating.

It’s been a starry, starry night,
with Rhone’s reflection shining bright
and our Irises connect and only ever see light.
Studying sorrow; pain vs. fear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?

It will be while on the dryest island where I find my lungs filled with water.
It will be collapsed on ground when I finally stand,
and encased and embraced in ice when I start getting hotter.

Promises will be made
and secrets are kept,
you’re inside me as I’m flayed,
exposed and I feel in debt.
You know that I love you,
that I only think of you,
and no one is your equal let alone ever above you.

It’s been so long at Eternity’s Gate,
I missed the Almond’s Blossom; I was too late,
and The Potato Eaters complain with what is on their plate.
Studying sorrow; shame or a tear,
so I’ll sit back and contemplate for another year,
would you appreciate the sentiment of Van Gogh’s lost ear?

I’d jump to paint your shadow
or even draw your outline in chalk,
I’d drag myself behind you even if you were to allow
me the privilege alongside you to walk.

Who gave permission to paint the inside of my eye lids,
closing them was the only door I had to escape each day.
I’ve knocked down monuments and blew up all the power grids,
and yet there’s sounds, thoughts and memories I can’t keep at bay.

Someone needs to cover their tracks,
I’d rather gut wrenching honesty than sugar coated lies.
I’m not obliviously naive I drown myself in facts,
connecting invisible dots and stretching coincidences and ties.
I saw a rainbow, though it’s hard to distinguish if it was just in my mind,
and I tell you her beauty can even turn the heads of those who are blind.

The game of chess I left years before;
the pawn on it’s side that I placed the blame.
The knight, king and queen are strewn on the floor,
did I happen to mention that I lost the game?

Losing my path that I’ve been following,
though indecisive I’ve always been one to lead,
and with these objections I’ve been swallowing
it’s a wonder my throat hasn’t begun to bleed.

Someone needs to cover the cracks,
‘cause the water’s rushing in as time goes by.
All I feel is cold shoulders and turned backs,
not sky or ocean but veins to match each eye.
I’ve got a million confessions on my tongue, but the words I just can’t find,
and I tell you her beauty can even turn the heads of those who are blind.

I swore I opened the thirteenth door
but I found myself upon floor,
and dragged myself until I was tattooed with rug burn.
Experiencing an implosion from my core,
flame’s extinguished but I feed the fire more,
I’ve always played with matches, I guess I’ll never learn.

I lay watching the clouds
change shape into my distractions,
all hitting my brain so loud
I wish to turn it down by fractions.
Feeling isolated within crowds,
and feeling excluded from my own factions,
I hide my heart but it’s well endowed,
and it’s all yours despite my words and actions.

I claimed gravity was overrated,
lately I’d rather be up than down.
Pros and cons, comparisons, versus and debated,
anchored; I do not see shackles I feel a crown.

And we are two balloons
floating high towards the sky.
Spending endless afternoons
lightly touching to electrify.
You know there isn’t one single thing
that could make me float astray,
but I’ll still ask you to hold tight to my string,
because I don’t want to drift away.

We sent declarations in the pale moon light,
trading out sentiments with each cycle and phase.
I’d agree with the statement of beauty but it was you in my sight,
and I was admiring the skin I craved to graze.

Like Don McLean, I love you so,
but the magnitude I don’t believe you’re sure,
and you must know that I’d never go,
as life before you was a series of emptiness; one giant blur.
This with you, I much prefer.

And we are two connecting minds
weaving and completing each thought.
Volunteering for finger traps and binds,
to be intertwined and fitting into eachothers slot.
You know there isn’t one single thing,
that would ever keep me at bay,
as the peace and happiness you bring,
beside you is where I’m meant to lay.

And I stared into her deep warm eyes,
I’ve lost count it must’ve been for the millionth time.
I compared each shade speckle to the starry skies,
exclaiming no shock to how they still outshine.
I told her “if you want to see my heart,
I’ll break it right open for you.
Tear and pick each piece apart,
present it like a pomegranate fruit.”

And we are two corresponding souls,
drifting on a current towards eachother.
Each and every person played their roles,
to reassure us there could never be another.
You know there isn’t one single thing,
that could ever drag me away,
you’re the first warm day of spring
I was always meant to stay.

You slowly run down my spine
and I’m sure you’re draining all of the fluid.
And how I think about you all of the time,
my God, if you only knew it.
While only in fleeting view,
you know my heart’s roads always lead to Rome,
and my love meeting and being with you
was just like finally coming home.

I need to ask this question,
I beg for you to answer it true,
please bring about heavy confession,
that you think of me as much as I think of you.
As my eyes only see you,
they burn with such scorching heat,
and they change from green, brown and blue,
the hues battle and they compete.

City streets and hardwood floors,
when my heart beats, each beat is yours.
Silent night and the darkest skies,
I drink in the perfect sight before
my eyes.
Each days that passes through,
three sixty-five takes its toll,
I just want to know you
I just want to see your soul.

You didn’t ask but you received my hand;
writers cramped and splattered with ink.
I’ve got this devotion I wear like a brand,
and you’re the only thought I think.
And if you should ever lose your sight and detection,
I will guide you through the dark,
any bruise, blemish or believed “imperfection”
I see only as a beauty mark.

Stretched out on my sheets and in my pores,
when my heart beats, each beat is yours.
Shining light and my personal sunrise,
I drink in the perfect sight before my eyes
Each moment feels brand new,
one step closer to our ultimate goal,
I just want to know you
I just want to see your soul.

Electricity now coursing in my veins
and galaxies stretched out upon my skin.
I wished to merge instead of changing lanes,
so thank you darling for letting me in.
Now I’ll forever be drowning in your eyes,
and always breathing in your voice.
I was in the dark but you lit the skies,
even the stars know you’re the superior choice.

Late in the night; whispering walls and floorboard creaks,
my fingertips gently brush dust off a mirror.
Carefully I scrub and shine until there’s no specks or streaks,
yet the reflection doesn’t grow any clearer.
I know time will only march on,
but I both dread and long for the dawn.

Awoken abruptly from a thirty year slumber,
realization slaps me swift in the face.
I find myself now wishing I was thirty years younger,
I’ll still finish last but I could restart the race.
I know time will only march on,
but where has all that time gone?

Alone in this world; what a terrible thing,
the only company provided is loneliness and nicotine.
I look to my hands knowing I could never wear a ring,
even if I could it would fall off as I grow older and more lean.
I know time will on march on,
but I forgot the song for the swan.

The people and places in the journey of life
have shaped me into a person I forgot I could be,
and while I may be comfortable, I’ve known my share of sadness and strife,
and you know the two both also know me.
I know time will only march on,
but why play chess to only be a pawn?

Late in the night, I light candles and sage,
though the shadows will remain in the corner.
Youth is wasted on the young, I’m halfway done at my age,
and I’ve spent most of my life as a mourner.
I know time will only march on,
and my breath will be used just to yawn.

I grasp a taste of purity, and I want to set it aflame,
as the past is blinding me and highlighting the blame.
I try to block it out to forget what has been done,
but it still screams and shouts, it’s something you can’t outrun.

I view pictures of violence, and I want to set it aflame,
hearing the empty silence always calling out my name.
I cut off every limb and hope that the blood still flows,
my veins are neatly trimmed but my tainted flesh regrows.

I sit with lifeless lampposts and attempt a peaceful dwell,
but running come the ghosts, pushing me back down to Hell.
They line up and take numbers, listing my damaged pride,
I have to bite my tongue until the darkness fades inside.

I lie under the last tree; its leaves were set aflame.
The fire burning free, no one on this earth could ever tame.
The wind drags it out and the ashes fade to dust,
I used to pray for drought, but the Gods have lost my trust.

I see her sad eyes and her life was set aflame,
I cry out to the skies, begging the clouds to rain.
I cradle my soft soul as it changes in its hues,
the story is already told but the ending was left skewed.

She walks away, colours tend to fade,
blending and mixing to a dreadful grey.
In another day, all decisions will be made,
With nothing left to do or left to say.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
I'll feel a little bit stronger,
regardless of what I lack.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to say goodbye.

I march along, to a beating drum but no song,
where everything is neither right nor wrong.
In another week, I'll lose the will to speak,
only listening to the floorboards as they creak.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
my memories will become fonder,
even though the past I'll have lost track.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to lie.

We continue on, as if there's nothing that is gone,
waiting out the night to see the dawn.
In another year, I'll still be standing here,
and honestly it's my hope but biggest fear.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
I'd put hold on my honour,
for too long the sky's been black.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to try.

If you'd stay a little bit longer,
until the sun comes back,
I'll feel a little bit stronger,
regardless of what I lack.
And a part of me will always die,
whenever I'm forced to say goodbye.

Woke up drained wishing that I was dead,
this life has meaning but only in my head,
I give her every part of me, and she asks me to repeat what I just said.

Now how does she not know
which direction my mind will go?
Her veins and my blood flow,
and a pair of hands to row.

It’s taken a toll and far too many years,
back and forth shuffling blame and our fears,
she lets me think I drive, but we both know she steers.

Now how can I stay strong?
Always repeating that one song.
She’s right until she’s wrong,
but I’m not where I belong.

I accepted a truth and made a lie stick,
covered and layered it over so outrageously thick,
she keeps me alive, but I’ve always been sick.

Now how can she not see
just how vital she is to me?
Giving priceless stock out for free,
but I’m never where I should be.

Woke up drained wishing that I was dead,
my heart breaks as often as she breaks bread.
I give her every part of me, and she asks me to repeat what I just said.

I wonder what it's like to be somebody's wish,
the one thing they want whenever they open a gift,
A prize that they see would be worth every risk,
A five star entree that makes you pass the side dish.

And day will bleed in to night,
and I'll tie my shoes too tight.
Think in the dark and ignore the light,
scribble all the answers out of sight
but it'll be alright.

I wonder what it's like to be somebody's goal
A thought that consumes all their ambitions whole.
That they see me as priceless but still go bankrupt to pay the toll,
and I complete them, left arm to their right and a heart to their soul.

And day will bleed in to night,
and I'll tie my shoes too tight.
I'll feel the restless stirs kiss and bite,
And I'll be too short for the ride, regardless of my height,
but it'll be alright.

I wonder what it's like to be somebody's dream,
I'd be their ocean instead of a river or stream.
I can be the needle to stitch their  seam,
Be the summer in winter and every season inbetween.

My soul was consumed
so I can tell you for what it's worth,
It was as if sadness has bloomed
and hope failed to give birth.
I'd never wish that onto anyone,
with all the loneliness I saw,
so many things had come undone
except my wired jaw.

Now I think little thoughts that are so petty,
like why didn't Archie ever pick Betty?

Years ago I closed that door,
my mind absent and I forgot to check the lock.
What came knocking, the same as before,
with the repeated conversations where I could never talk.

How did I come to this,
it’s like a loop repeated in time,
but it’s the only one I want to end.
Watch tragedy stem from bliss,
no lemons so life tossed me a lime,
I’ll keep stirring but it won’t blend.

Today I singed myself with a cigarette
in question if I could still detect heat.
No pain, no burn, no reflexes or regret,
no warmth for I to ever greet.

How did this take over,
I saw the path in front of my eyes,
with weeds and fences blocking the way.
It’s all crimson and clover,
painted and blended in the skies,
and I hope the landscape will stay.

I made a list last night
of the things I want in life,
and you’re at the top i’of the chart.
The other numbers have grown trite,
and they’re blank with strife
because everything else has come apart.

Darling, what do you think of me?
and how often, how frequently?
I’ve been comparing and relating,
Lovely, do you still have your key?
To my breath and heart beating,
I’ve been longing and debating.

The cold winds are now rising,
the night has only grown more dark,
avoiding destruction appears tantalizing,
but my eyes remain fixated on that one spark.
It has the potential to set the world ablaze
though I only wish to warm up my bones,
and after all these years you still completely amaze
you’re unlike anyone else, no match to any snowflakes or stones.

Within the first breaths
of the early morning hours,
I lie in the dim abyss of my room.
I can’t help but feel a cold, empty
and heavy void in the entirety of my abdomen
as I wonder
if I will ever have a chance to have
someone, or something,
know every inch of me
like my pen does.

I can’t gurgle out a love filled poem today,
even though so many of you have been dedicating work to Valentines Day all week.
All I’ve been thinking is;
almost everyday I write a poem
for the girl I love with every inch of myself,
and she doesn’t even seem to know it’s her my words come to life for.
So today I take a stand,
‘cause who writes love poems
for the poets?

There's always two directions and no one knows the best course,
for my simple and small affections never smudge out my remorse,
And with all four seasons, I only ever see my love grow,
as the heart has it's reasons, reason itself does not know.

I was living in a sunset, counting seconds until the next rise,
but I always fail to forget how the glare stings my eyes.
Coated now with a harsh wind's blow, just one of the four seasons to flaunt,
it's true that only the heart can know what it is that the heart wants.

I see the trees; changing colour with slow seconds in between,
I'll be what's needed of me; yellow, brown, red or green.

They tell me the days will only get longer;
I'm unsure as to if that's good or bad.
"The sun's rays will just hit you stronger,
and your farmer's tan will show up plaid."
And with all four seasons, time moves both fast and slow,
as the heart has it's reasons, reason itself does not know.

Long years going strong, and the empty pill bottles take up too much space.
Was I right? Were you wrong? It was someone else's medicine I was made to taste.
The trite blabbering needs to stop, there's an issue here that's coat heavy with silence,
but I don't want the topic to drop, I just would rather not end it in violence.

Take the mountains away, and the sun from day,
turn every painting into a Dorian Gray.
I read into a verse, and my mind only makes it worse,
I think the ability of thought isn't a gift but a curse.

The hours all blend in with smoke, and blank filled far out stares,
I'm not like the common folk, who live their lives with trivial cares.
I used to be so ****** smart, now I stumble on every single word,
was my soul torn apart? I wonder if you even heard.

Take the mountains away, and the sun from day,
turn every painting into a Dorian Gray.
I read into a verse, and my mind only makes it worse,
I think the ability of thought isn't a gift but a curse.

My eyes have changed colour since that day,
but they soften when I remember thoughts of her.
Twirling pools of green, blue and grey,
and I'm not sure which shade I prefer.

I fail at persuasive entanglement
and negotiations almost masterfully,
as I try to strike a deal with whatever entity, or deity, that encompasses the life force around us.
“Show me a way,” I murmur,
pure exhaustion laced within what
passes for my voice today.
“If you can’t throw me a bone,
then throw me air; I swear it will suffice.”
Just once I would like to experience the gratification and overall relief and completion
at getting one of the few things I wished for in life.

And if it’s will sees it fit that I have neither bone nor oxygen,
then I plead that it atleast grants me the smallest grain of wisdom,
all within the right moments,
so that if life truly is circular versus linear,
that when I get pushed down the wrong path, open the wrong door,
and make life altering mistakes,
I can atleast try to gather the strength to force myself to prevent them.
So maybe one day, even a day repeated, especially a day repeated,
I might know what happiness feels like
when it isn’t artificial or ripped from my hands swiftly.
I held a soft grip once out of wishing to provide comfort, protection and love,
when maybe I should have been digging my nails deep,
and holding on for dear ******* life.

I never feared much,
I had a recklessness about my own life.
One day I tasted fear, and decided I preferred invincibility.
I couldn’t fight it,
God knows how hard I tried.
and I was slapped with realization:
I gained a gigantic fear;  being without you.

But now,
my biggest fear,
the one that keeps me up at night
and chokes the little air from my lungs,
is that you’ll live your life not ever knowing
how very much I love you,
and how every work of art in this world
pales and insults the perfection
that radiates from you
straight into my heart,
embracing my soul,
and overriding my mind.

I love you so much,
it’s a kin to daggers stabbing
every single inch of my body.

You’ll know now.

I want every feeling and every confession to fall upon my hollowed chest,
'cause I'm still reeling from the last lesson, heart and head need a rest.
I'm expecting more than will ever come, but I've built you to the sky,
the breast beats resemble a drum, heart and head want to lie.

Destruction of both, resurrection of the pair,
I swore an oath that I swore I'd never swear.
Each line was read, and each word was spoken true,
and my heart and my head are always led right back to you.

Winds of winter burn my skin and the grey skies are too long of a test,
I never wanted to let anyone in, heart and head need a rest.
I can't be kept together and to prevent unravelling; I barely try.
I'm scared I'll feel this way forever, heart and head want to die.

There's always some growth, always healing of the tear,
I swore an oath that I swore I'd never swear.
The ink slowly bled, colours of red and blue,
and my heart and my head are always led right back to you.

I'll string together tender words, I'll only compile the best,
it's just too bad they're never heard, heart and head need a rest.
This is the sweetest love as even the torment has got me high,
it's just too addictive of a drug, heart and head want to fly.

Destruction of both, resurrection of the pair,
I swore an oath that I swore I'd never swear.
Each line was read, and each word was spoken true,
and my heart and my head are always led right back to you.

I aspired to draw a line in the sand
but I ended up carving a square.
It birthed a perimeter that wasn’t planned,
enclosing the emptiness of what was there.
If I could find the will to move my legs
I’d still plant my feet on either side,
but they’re dangling off each limb that drags,
dead weight bumping and bouncing along with the ride.

Stagnantly cushioning careless decisions
and finding loose lint among the remains,
stitching is falling behind the constant incisions
but surprised the pleasures match with the pains.
I’ll be going over, while falling under,
come run Red Rover, abstain or plunder.

I noticed the devolution of my skin,
in the irregular margins I jotted scribbled notes.
We could cut the cost with aluminum foil versus tin,
it could mimic barriers like our winter coats.

See my mouth refuse to further consume
my teeth are made solely to crunch numbers,
checking every inch within each room,
I can’t comprehend the routine this encumbers.
You supply the war
and I’ll supply the headlines.
We’ll follow the same pattern as before,
but now watch out for land mines

I poured the tears into stale water
and traced my hand upon the sun,
burnt fingertips but I thought it would be hotter,
and the brightness could blind if not stun.
Walk off the wounds from imagination
and get in the ring to face reality’s wrath,
I’ll take comfort in knowledge of my destination,
I never rerouted my destined path.

I’ve got another cold night ahead of me
exhale and treasure the breath that I see.
Snow prints don’t lie,
dark tints the sky and I
still witness a star glimmer in my lazy eye.

Whipping winds lash at my face,
squeeze in my shoulders and pick up my pace.
Snow prints don’t lie,
my squints still try to magnify
and catch a glimpse of light to my lazy eye.

So I’ll wear a heavy sweater
and will double up on socks,
prepared for all types of weather
but I’ll be tripping over rocks.
No choice but to keep on going
even without water, shelter or a knife,
and though I’m done with all of the snowing
I guess I’ll just layer up for life.

I’ve got another long day in my view
hopelessly chasing a sunset, I miss each shade and hue.
Snow prints don’t lie,
short stints too high but I comply,
hoping to rest my head and close my lazy eye.

So I’ll wear a heavy sweater
and will double up on socks,
to be facing the outside better
but I’ll be crashing with the stocks.
And in order to pass “go” again,
you gotta trek through heartbreak and strife,
cold hands, do you have mitts to lend?
As I must layer up for life.

I’m determined to walk the path less taken,
and when we intersect it will be the one less shaken.

I am split in half,
right down the middle in perfect symmetry.
One side wants to laugh,
while the other floats in purgatory,
and I didn't want to rip at my guts,
I'm just begging for these thoughts to finally die,
as the feelings are like paper cuts,
not unlike soap in the eye

Came to see if I was breathing,
I’m just needing a moment to calm down.
It’s just me still caged in this grieving
a sinking feeling causing me to drown.
Regardless of the gasping
it never stops; the question asking,
and my own answers are lacking
go ahead and tell ‘em, Long Lungs.

Hand over mouth in surprise and despair,
preventing fact from making a great escape.
A single breath couldn’t start to prepare
the never ending lines of caution tape.
Ignoring all of the many problems,
resigned to never solve them,
no one offers help so why involve them?
Go ahead and tell ‘em, Long Lungs.

I’ve been screaming silently most of my life.
Echoing pain and torment for endless miles.
Questioning visible scars while holding the knife,
that caused the death of seriousness and birthed countless smiles.

Came to see if I could tell or show
and speak the words I could never know,
while my grip weakens so I let it go,
and hope whatever falls can regrow.
Go ahead and tell ‘em Long Lungs.
Through all of the many seasons
they stopped changing and started bleedin’
I don’t judge’ cause I’m sure they have their reasons.
Go ahead and tell ‘em Long Lungs.

I can’t accept that my heart must turn to stone
just so that I don’t have to fade to dust and bone.
What good is life if you must go it alone?
Everyone should hear a voice versus a dial tone.

I don’t want to put a price on my head or on my soul,
and I don’t want to pay the price when I’ve already paid the toll.
Maybe I should take a lesson or two from a certain mole,
and find myself a nice warm and cozy hole.

Instead I resign and lay down on cold concrete
hoping it might absorb some of the sun’s heat,
like during days in the summer when it burns your feet,
they say you could hear an egg sizzle and it could cook your meat.

You may think I resemble a crumpled up bill,
discarded and thrown away at someone else’s will,
or maybe just another ant upon the hill
that’s awaiting to be squashed, just awaiting the ****.

Still I’m risking it all for just one more day,
even though the colours drain and then they fade to grey.
What you give you should not take away.
the rules keep on changing but not the way we play.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Em?”
I’m shaking my head and cheeks turn red.
Holding back tears but coughing up phlegm,
just consider me one of the walking dead.

And in all of that; myself I will find
and I’ll find myself becoming blind.
With clenched fists and teeth that grind,
living in the constraints of a mortal mind.

She bruises easily,
she says “I don’t know why.”
“I’m like the monarchy,
they just won’t let me die.”
She pinches at her skin,
“do you see what I mean?”
It’s almost paper thin,
transparent and clean.

She comes up from the dirt,
born just ready to die.
Tugs and tears at her shirt,
fixes the cloth like a tie.
Changing each mask
within each new realm
and yet she still asks,
“Who put Bella in the Wych Elm?”

Wishing for the end
since around ‘96,
calling the reaper a friend,
“there’s no problem he can’t fix.”
“I had it all but at what cost?
I see no familiar face.”
“Every person I know is lost,
in life’s dreadful marathon race.”

She comes up from the dirt,
born just ready to die.
Grits teeth against the hurt
and keeps her eyes on the sky.
Still she juggles her tasks
and she steers at the helm,
and yet she still asks
“Who put Bella in the Wych Elm?”

We fell head first on the mattress
entwined, skin sliding and tightly pressed,
biting the same shoulders we used to lean.
Fingertips cascading down like a waterfall,
she read my eyes and translated the scrawl,
an impeding collision has never been so serene.

Living within the lines of the same page;
total freedom or lion’s cage,
comfortably in the middle or in between.
I’m knotted and tongue tied,
overcome with silent speeches of pride,
specializing in the coldest heat that I’ve ever seen.

When all you’ve got
is what you’ve stole or what you’ve bought,
what’s in your soul; the wars you’ve fought
what you’ve grown or what is rot.
When all you’ve done
is intense pain or mindless fun,
it’s endless rain or blinding sun
it’s unknown but just begun.
Homegrown and a home run.

Once more, a dark room all about me
shadows slick and embracing;
an empty void to the right.
Silence growing so deafening,
stronger than I could ever be,
another waste of life and a night.

When all you’ve got
is what you’ve stole or what you’ve bought,
One more *** hole in a parking lot,
what you found and what you’ve sought.
When all you’ve gave
was what you wanted or you crave,
scrimped with intentions to save,
losing steam while staying brave.
One foot out the door,and one in the grave.

All my past lives
that survives
each crash with every drive.
I’ll wake up; derived
but contrive
resurrection and revive.

Here’s to the perfect crime,
performing it for the thousandth time.
Sublime and in your prime,
but with a prayer rip off a layer
of permanent grime.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
I was weighed down pound by pound
and things were looking grim.
My arms flailing; began to tire
and my mouth was tasting salt,
just days ago I warmed myself by fire
and by lying on the asphalt.

Shadow stalks and kicking rocks;
irrelevant if your shoes are tied.
Checking locks and kicking rocks
get carried away by the tide.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
I could view the sandy ground,
though the image was quite dim.
My head; just barely above the water
and desperately I was gasping for air,
and I could swear it was getting hotter
but the temperature was actually fair.

I’ve got currents and tides
within my mind.
And when I finally rip out my insides;
more water and waves you’ll find.

The year I almost drowned
was the year I learned to swim.
While being tossed and pushed around
I discovered I had every limb.
I could see a shoreline in the distance
it’s beaches with perfect white sand.
It seemed within an instance
I started treading steadily with each hand.