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Oct 2017 · 99
Love is a Cigarette
Ethan Deal Oct 2017
"What do you think love is?" She asked him. He thought for a moment as he stared at the old wooden clock on the wall and tried to slow his mind, to sync in time with every one of its tics. "Love is a man's favorite cigarette." He said with indisputable certainty, "Not the one that he occasionally bums off a friend, when he needs a little variety, but the one he walks in the corner store every day and buys without compromise. It's the one that everyone knows is his, because his taste for it is never fickled." She was vexed. "So you believe love is an addiction?" She asked with a hint of disappointment. "No," he replied without hesitation, "I believe love is allowing someone to be close enough to consume your breath, close enough to **** you, and in the end, never doubting whether or not it was all worth it."
May 2017 · 140
The Children of Tomorrow
Ethan Deal May 2017
He blew the dwindling years off an old dusty yearbook. Nastalgia hit him with a fierce blow to the gut. Flipping through the crisp pages, he lemented those that he once loved and loathed. Now and then, he'd pause and tap his finger on a vaguely familiar face, whispering, "I forgot they even existed." His gaze was met by an old stereo that seemed to be staring into his psyche, ravaging through painful memories. For a moment, he winced. He thought back to the countless nights he spent with that stereo turned on full blast to muffle the screams and slamming doors. This was usually followed by eerie silence when Mom would cry herself to sleep and Dad would set a wind driven course to the local watering hole. He was the product of a time. A time when no man could feel unwanted as long as he gave the people what they wanted on social media and other platforms, a time when music was meant to distract rather than inform, when we could only hope the right wing party didn't squash abortion before the socialists ran out of room to put drab apartments. Yes, he was a product, indeed. Everyone was in those days. They were marketed at the price of freedom and sold for less than a dime.
Oct 2016 · 198
Time is Always at Your Back
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Time hunts us down like dogs
Haunts our every move until the day we rest
Giants tower
And stomp on our dreams
Werewolves prowl
Men they are
Children of the Morning Star
Fueled by greed and lust
And daily routines
Beasts they are
Companions of the Lunar God
They stalk their prey by the pale light of that which created them
Their true colors shown
When Apollo drags the great star into the shadows
It has been this way for eons and will be for eons to come
Nothing more than another day to breathe
Careful now,
This next meal could be your last
Time is never on your side
It is, however,
Always at your back
Holding hands with Death
They watch your every move
And collaborate on which one will take you today
So get drunk on spirits of nature
Get tattoos of time devices, skulls and omens of death
To remind you of the interchangeable nature and niches of life and death, time and dead silence, love and loss
Nothing lives forever but an idea
So think
So feel
Imagine
Innovate
Share every thought
Don't hold back for fear of persecution
For this is the only way you will live for eternity
Oct 2016 · 194
Happy Birthday
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Fell asleep in Y2K
And woke up with a full time job and a monkey on my back
Wearing a worn out pair of Chucks
They tell me I was born today,
But I don't feel alive
Living too far ahead
Inside my head
Just another way to survive
Just another day
Just another day
Tell me are the good times really over?
Tell me where did the child go
In the mirror yesterday
Two decades
Of mental anguish
Collecting memories
Getting by on another stanza, another story, another song
Tell me where does time go
When it's far behind us?
Does it just live in our minds
Or stay right where we left it
Where recollections roam free
Where they stand still
Where they never fade
Tell me what to do
With all the time I've made
I feed off the passion
I starve on my weakness
Did you see me today
When I was all alone
Amongst a crowd
Leave it to the lonely
With a beautiful girl standing there
And all you can do is stare
Destiny is a fickled *****
When it comes too late
Or too early
Who the hell knows?
We're all misfits in the end
Me, I choose to keep the outcast crowd
The ones who threw away their crown
To live a life of poverty
A life of sin
This is about to die
Which makes me want to cry
As I let out a little longer sigh than the one before
Another burden
Another sore
Another bottle
Another bore
All in all
It's just another brick in the wall
Waiting on the ivory tower to fall
Waiting on a friend to call
Feeling like a bouncing ball
Up down up down
A roller coaster ride
Do you know how I feel?
I love you
I hate you
Don't leave me
Don't deceive me
Did you conceive me
Do you believe me
Why won't you just save me?
Oct 2016 · 219
Therapy Couch
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Hello
Are the medications working?
Do you need an adjustment?
These will do the trick
Just trust me

What are you doing to stay sober
Now that you and your love are over
Do you need another prescription?
A fix for your addiction?

Are you suicidal?
Homicidal?
Tell me about these nightmares
Why do you think no one cares
Why do you think that makes you scared?
Just be mindful and aware

You just have to have patience
My dear patient
Tune into your medication
And tune out all this condemnation
How does that make you feel?
Yes, your feelings are valid
Yes, the world is real

Don't you worry about your old man
He doesn't know what he can't understand
Just know he's your biggest fan
And he hates to see you this way
He just doesn't know what to stay

Has it been an hour already?
You know my fee is flat and steady
It's been a great session
I hope you learned a lesson
Let's say next week around seven?
Oct 2016 · 206
Oh Well
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I slept through the seasons changing
My alarm went off
At Summer's end
To let me know all my dreams had faded
I woke up at a job site
With a paintbrush in my hand
I don't know how I got this gig
All I know is that high school is over
And I didn't even walk
No cap and gown
As I'm sinking down
****** into another ******
Thinking that girl really mattered
Now I've realized I'm two years older
Than I was yesterday
What is your philosophy on time?
Do you think it's too late to pray?
The drink is dry
The water's wet
And too cold to jump in
There's no way I'll take that chance
Just to wash away my sins
Laughter on demand
Sadness by free will
I'm in a cage with an unlocked door
Waiting for someone to set me free
The therapy sessions go well
Though, I wish I had them every day
My personal genie
To grant all my wishes
My perfect lover
To count all my kisses
I guess I should get off my ***
And go find what I'm looking for
If only I knew what that was
Instead I sit here alone
In a sea of sulking
And say "**** it" just because
Drink another drop
But the pain never stops
And you can't raise the dead
Unless you're raised by the dead
In that case,
Go ahead
Sweet dreams and off to bed
With a back full of lead
I didn't hear a word you said
Your words drowned out
With a shotgun blast
And little time to think
Oh, what I would do,
If I could put my heart into ink
Oct 2016 · 253
Hitching a Ride
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I left it all behind me. I left my fear, my comfort and the blood from my recently slashed wrists. The drugs weren't working anymore, the cutting didn't transfer the pain. There was no pain. She wasn't gone. I couldn't accept it. The pills couldn't take her away, nor the bus she rode off in. She was forever in my mind. What could I do? Numb, bold and black hearted, I marched into the darkness of the interstate with the glow of headlights whipping by me. No doubt this was a dangerous and compulsive expedition, but I had no fear. Wanderlust suffocated my insecurities, adventure filled my belly. There was no need for food or sleep. The only need I had was to put mile markers between me and everything I left behind. These bags were getting heavy though. As a first time hitch hiker, no one advised me to pack light. It wasn't long before luck found me in the form of a tanker truck, pulled over with its hazard lights on. They must be stopping for me! I ran with my heavy load, careful not to miss what could be my only ride. I open the cab door to find an older gentleman, typical trucker. He wore a ***** old t shirt and trucker style cap, long white hair, a few tattoos of the chain gang variety. He clearly had some stories to tell. He had a welcoming, but slightly impatient tone, "I figured you'd come up here if you wanted a ride. I just stopped to make a phone call." He didn't stop to make a phone call. I gestured toward the loaded hash pipe in the ashtray, "You smoke ****, man?" His reply amused me, "Naw man, that's my medication. Go ahead and take a hit if you want." I took a long needed **** and exhaled relief. I tried passing it, but he insisted, "Go on, take you another hit boy. Get your head right. We got a long ride ahead." I graciously took my share. He took his, and we were on our way. We talked women, ****, current events, troubles, travels and adventures. I made sure to ask questions. Knowledge is like a currency to me, and I knew this old man had been around a good bit. I noticed his cigarettes. Pall Mall Reds. A man after my own heart. I told him we were kindred spirits and babbled some high induced nonsense about signs from the universe and how we were meant to take this journey together. His name was Kenny. Of course his name was Kenny.
Oct 2016 · 215
Greyhound
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I was sitting there at the bus station, in the smoking section, of course, people watching, waiting for my inevitable departure from this retched and intriguing pit stop in civilization. You find a special breed of people at the Greyhound station at 4:30 in the morning. Beast like, they are. They move in single file lines, directed by those in uniform, they plop down in chairs and wait to be rotated once again. Snowbirds flying south for the winter, drunks and bums, pan handlers, insomniacs, parolees and some guy playing a guitar with a case of beer beside him, singing a song about how he needs thirty dollars to get home. My kind of folks. The particular gentlemen I was chatting with, claimed to be coming home from North Carolina where he played in a wedding band with Bill Clinton on saxophone. He did a good impression and who was I to call him a liar, anyways? I drifted off. My gaze was fixed on the spot where you and I smoked our last cigarette together. I walked you back to the lobby. We kissed. We said I love you. I'll see you in three days. You never came home. We had just arrived a few short months earlier, after walking through 7 types of hell, including the one that is, The Atlanta Greyhound Station. We stayed there for 25 hours. We were immersed in the Greyhound culture at a torturous capacity. We finally made it here. Not long after, you left here. Though, I like to believe that somewhere in some place and time, that last moment never ended. We're still here at the bus stop. Neither one of us ever really left.
Oct 2016 · 187
The House
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I put tulips under all the pillows and set fire to the house. The tulips were just for symbolism and aesthetics. I knew they would burn before anyone noticed them, but it felt good knowing what I had done. I laughed as I watched the flames roar and tower above the ruins of a once loving home. I went on this way for a while, choking on my cackles. Too many years of smoking cheap cigarettes will do that to a man. After a while though, I began to cry. I let out the hatred I had for the house, the ghosts that haunted it and the memories that filled it. I let it all go in the form of tears that burned as they rolled down my face and ached as they left my eyes. They were all the same, I decided. They were all out to get me. They all had forked tongues that fed me lies. They all had their heads turned, so they couldn't see what was done to me. So I burned it down. I burned it all down and laughed while I did it. The laughter didn't surprise me. Insanity and dark, sinister laughing seem to go hand in hand. The crying, though, that's something I didn't expect. It's been years since teardrops touched my sunk in cheeks. I was numbing my feelings when she came along, and up until now, I had no reason to let them out. Maybe that's why she had to go. I let it burn anyways. Like the hell in my heart, it burned and raged. Strong gusts of wind for fuel and cold, dry wood to keep it burning.
Oct 2016 · 137
Paint by Number: Black
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I smell like a corpse
I look like a zombie
The dark bags under my eyes
Are where I carry all my stress
And count my sleep deprived nights
Too afraid the nightmares
Will steal my dreams
And sing me a lullaby
From the cradle to the grave
I call on Earth magic
Every time I roll the dice
But all magic comes with a price
Even if I did get lucky Friday night
My hands and feet are *****
My hands stained with blood
My feet drenched in mud
I walk through the woodlands
Just to lose myself again
Fighting my battles
With microphones and pens
I spilled the ink on the floor
Because the words don't seem
To have meaning anymore
I've lost my edge
My will to beg
I no longer hear the dead
But I do hear death
He says he's waiting on the opportune moment
To find me in a pit of loathing
A hole so deep,
It has to be my grave
And still the bombs, they rave
Exploding in my brain
Feeling so depraved
This life isn't for the faint of heart
An average man would be torn apart
By the wickedness I crave
There's only one soul left to save
Oct 2016 · 334
Happy Birthday Brother
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I went by your grave yesterday
The first time since I saw you
Lying in a pine box
Hoisted above a 6 foot hole
Ready to rest
After a lifetime of running
People say, "I'll sleep when I'm dead."
You embodied that expression
Never slowing down
Even after the speed was stealing
Final breaths, blood running out
You pinned under a truck,
You still wanted to party
I told you that **** would **** you one day
But if you weren't the craziest, most stubborn
******* I ever knew,
You wouldn't be my brother
I wouldn't be writing this right now
I wouldn't be bawling over a headstone
Staining the cheap smoke
In my trembling hands with teardrops
None of this would matter
If you weren't who you were
You were my brother
I was so proud to see you clean up
After we both hit the drug scene running
As soon as our feet touched ground
Honestly, I always thought you'd die
With a needle in your arm
I should've known it wouldn't be that kind
Of speed that would ultimately be your end
Your end?
What am I saying?
With a spirit like yours,
No grave could ever hold you down
It's your birthday today,
You nearly made it to 22
But there wasn't a way with a kid like you
Rest easy brother,
God knows you need some sleep
Oct 2016 · 186
Enter the Void
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Enter the void
I wish you would
Be the adhesive
For my broken soul
Be my salvation
Or eventually, my damnation
Just fill in the gaps
Long enough for substance
To regain its effect
Loneliness tailored
To fit me like this ***** flannel
Wrapped around my aching back
I know one day you'll dig this hole
Deeper than it was before
But for now, be my fix
My one size fits all cure
Don't leave the light on when you go
**** the darkness with roaring flames
Incinerate your memory
Evacuate my brain
Blind me with an explosion
So that I may never cry another tear
Upon your picture
But for now,
Enter the void
I really wish you would
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
He sits there smoking cigarettes
Drinking stolen cans of beer
He got blow from some dude down the road
He's not that buzzed yet
But he thinks it's probably near
Seems like there's nothing left to loathe

He's in a car on the edge of town
In the middle of his mind
He doesn't count the drinks he put down
He doesn't count the time
American Idiot drowns the silence
He hopes he won't get violent
Teenagers scare the living **** out of me
But where were you when they decided to bleed
Did you kiss their lacerations?
Did you care to have a conversation?
What do you really think they need?
Why do you think pain tastes so sweet?
But you didn't even speak.

Now count all the days
But don't count the hours
You'll find yourself in a summer shower
With 5 years left behind you
Your heart is gone
And you've moved on
And you think you're doing fine
But the Crow keeps the time
And the Sparrow lays to rest
And the only one who loved you at your worst
Has never seen you at your best

You're such a *****
And I've been high all afternoon
Why can't I just come over
And find a place to recover
From all this jaded nightmares
Aren't you listening?
Don't you care?
I'm sorry,
I love you,
Please don't go away.
How could you ever love a stray??

Sometimes I wonder what might've become
If I hadn't run with pirates
And drank all that ***
Would you still love me?
Would you still be here?
Would you still be the one
Who took away my fears?
I'm living now and I'm starting to wonder
Just where our love died
I'm sober now
But I won't drag you under
And you know I hate to see you cry

He's still in the car on the edge of town
5 years have got behind him
And reality's just touched down
Somewhere in the middle of his mind
You'll always be around
Just hold on tight and don't look down
The hard part is almost over
Where the hell do you run to
When there's no place to take cover?
Oct 2016 · 486
The End of Days
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
He found the end of days to be relatively pleasant. The end of days wasn't the Apocalypse or some Armageddon Rapture made in a Hollywood basement. No, this was a far more devastating blow. He was to **** off his former self. A massacre to the identity he had hand crafted and held so dear. It was a genocide of all things familiar and comfortable, as well as the friends he once cherished. But most of all, it was an existential cleansing of all materialism that had drug him down for so long, of the dark places he once resided. In this time and for the very first time, he found truth. He spoke truth. He loved truth. No more masquerade ***** filled with smoke and mirrors. No more denial, no more mother's crying when their babies have been consumed by a young man and a monster. This was the end of days. There were no boogiemen in these times. Only a reflection of a soulless shell. A vampire burned by the sun, who travels by moonlight and finds security in darkness. But he no longer drank the blood of loved ones and lover's passed. He was no longer afraid of the light. He basked in it and soaked in relief. Yes, the end of days were pleasant indeed.
Oct 2016 · 362
Bury Me in Daisies
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
He stared off into the valley
At the rolling treetops
Of different heights and colors
He imagined himself
Wandering through them aimlessly
No set destination
No compass
No clothes
A naked explorer
Assimilating to nature
Embracing the animal
He was clearly meant to become
He pulled himself out of his daydream
As he noticed the lone white flower
Pushing its way
Through the thick layers of brick
On the back veranda
Though this was the first time
He had aquatinted the flower,
He knew it well
He was the flower
An awkwardly aesthetic still life
Born of dirt and soft clear rain drops
Forced into an unnatural
Unforgiving environment
To stand alone
Out of place
Out of time
Hoping someday he'll wilt away
And be reborn amongst the daisies
He'll sing songs with his breatren
In harmony with the crickets and toads
And a lost boy like himself
Whistling the songs of his time
As he sits in the meadow
While the daisies drink his tears
And caress his bare, callused feet
He lays back
As they surround his long, unwashed hair
And whisper in his ear
To tell him he's home
And with that, he closes his eyes
Fades to black
Behind his weary eyelids
He buries himself
And becomes a seed
To grow amongst his kind
Oct 2016 · 389
Castaway
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
He fell short of his father's footsteps
He fell out of his mother's arms
He found himself swaddled and lonely
Cradled in the arms of *******
He found himself craving and hungry
Homeless and heartbroken
Waiting for a bed at the shelter
The one society set aside
They're either too dumb or too lazy
To piece together all his puzzles
Lost in his riddles and rhymes
A fish in a bowl
Staring at the world outside
Swimming round and round
In hopes that his efforts
Will crack his icy crystal cell
Waiting a lifetime to make bail
Life's a hammer
He's the nail
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Another breakdown
Another one taken
By things that go bump in the night
Another dream dies
As soon as you turn out the light
He burned the bridges
He sunk the ships
And took refuge on an island under the sea
He sat on the beach
And eventually floated back to shore
A message in a bottle
A castaway marooned by man
To drown in his own tears
Oct 2016 · 549
Make Me A Martyr
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
Stuck in this town again
Drinking to forget a girl I never met
Lost my job last week
I laugh at the eviction notice
On my door
then I pass out on the floor
Can't tell if I'm alive anymore
Another birthday candle wish
After a year with a suitcase
on my back
I lost my mind a couple of times
Lost some good ones to this life
Now it's time for me to move along
Singin that old sad song
At this same **** greyhound station, the one you left me at
Staring at the road
Wondering when you're coming home, and asking myself
why the hell I did
Another desperate cry for help
But no one can hear
Cause I lost my voice
screaming out your name
Can't sniff you out
Cause my nose is clogged with powder, a good way to waste another hour, standing in the April shower, holding a wilted wild flower
Still waiting on you to turn around
And find me in this sleepy old town
Just before I burn it down
My crucifixion was at dawn
But you know I'm not an early riser
So I slept through the whole **** thing, as the Angels start to sing,
"Child, where have you been? We lost you long ago, to salvation in the bottle. I'm sorry, but you can't come in. Now off with the head of the tortured soul to end his suffering."
Oct 2016 · 158
The Usual
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
I shave my head in the name of anarchy, when I just don't fit into their hierarchy.
I'm drowning again, I'm drowning again. A bottle of crown and the sound of a pen,
And nothing else.
Another story on the shelf.
Another year under my belt.
Another I can't help myself.
Another hazard to my health.
Another love to make me melt.
Another pain I've never felt.
A product of the hand I've dealt.
Oct 2016 · 201
Homesick
Ethan Deal Oct 2016
The city of angels wasn't quite heaven to me. Sin city held its name. The desert's Good Time Charlie at the end of the mirage. That scenic route through Denver, gave my heart new eyes. It's a shame my heart was still in Georgia. It jumped out on 95. Ray Charles found me broke down in Acton. "Son do you need a ride? I'll be your guide if you could be my eyes." And he took me back to Georgia in my mind. I'll be on that eastbound train tomorrow. I'm coming home to take back yesterday. I'll be headed south this time on Wednesday. Just know that I'll be loving you today. I'm sleep deprived and stuck on a bus, squished up next to someone twice my size. I'm crying out Sweet Dixieland, and the heartbreak of a girl without a name. Staring at the endless road, could drive a man insane. I sold my soul for mile markers, to run away from shame. Georgia, I'm the only one to blame.
Sep 2016 · 217
Just Like You
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
Broken glass scattered about the garage
A leg missing from the kitchen chair
Cast into the living room
I threw the grill across the porch
Charcoal strowed about
Destruction seems the only outlet
For drunken rage
Daddy's home
A domestic brawl
Like father, like son
We drown our sorrows
With whiskey
We drown the science with screams
Violence brings about submission
Two Libras searching for balance
With the world's weight
On one side of the scale
The air from a long sigh on the other
Pacify me with validation
Tell me I'm a good boy
I shouldn't have to earn your pride
When I was young,
I wanted to be just like you
So I headed to the county line
I got your brand
Dad, aren't you proud?
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
Long bohemian locks
A bandana wrapped around them
A boyish grin
And pain ridden chocolate globes
That contradicted ****** features
And reflected beauty staring back

A kiss
A flash of lust
And a spark of love
A fire once raged
And quickly turned to embers

Once upon a rehab
She was mine
This isn't a bedtime story
I'd call it a fairytale
But it has no happy ending
A drama, we'll call it
A tragedy to be precise
The curtains closed at a bus station
One last bow and a standing ovation

Two razors
One for my head
One for my wrists
A modern reenactment
Of a Biblical ballad
The strength I found
In the thick strands
That concealed my expression
Tumbled down to the tile floor

Hey there Delilah
What's it like in Cooper City?
I'm still stuck in The Boro
Just in case you miss me
Never mind
I hear it in your voice
You're full of lies
Not this time
Oh, it's what you do to me
Oh, it's what you do to me
Happiness seems way too hard
That's why I'm sitting at this bar
I'd talk to you
But I've got nothing to say
Our friends used to be envious
And we'd just smile at them because we knew that none of them had felt that way
Delilah, I can promise you
That it's over
And we're through
Your memory is making me insane
And you're to blame

A quick detour
A song for you
A hand full of pills
Another razor
I woke up in a pond
Two weeks since consciousness
A weary thumb and a trucker
Where are you headed?
Anywhere but here
I pray the pillars fall on me
My last bit of strength
My last hope
Sep 2016 · 673
Estranged Family Tree
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
I spent my whole life running from myself, only to discover, I'm faster than me. I've spent the last year on the road, searching for my peace of mind, everywhere but where I lost it to begin with. I dug up my roots when they drank my life dry, then crawled in the hollow trunk, till I died. My seed will bare different fruit, same card, different suit, my branches will bury my roots.
But you won't put me in the ground,
Burn my casket with my body,
Burn my body with my name,
Pour my ashes down the drain,
And give my eulogy in acid rain.
Sep 2016 · 243
I Had a Dream
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
I had a dream
I was living in a nightmare
Greed invited judgement day
And the government's on welfare
I never woke up
I never slept
Will you check my vital signs?
Will you be my best friend
In this modern end of times?
Will you give me a prescription
And say I'll be just fine?
When the final trumpet sounds
Death will tremble at our feet
When the ivory tower fell
They pillaged through the rubble
And found the remanence
Of a blind vision
Truth without a tongue
And deaf communication
Welcome to the Holy War
The living Revelation
The final seal was broken
To save a godless nation
We sold our soul to progress
In exchange for isolation
The cartoons were replaced
With infomercial stations
The children of the rising sun
The master of creation
Disciples of forbidden fruit
The gamble for salvation.
Sep 2016 · 162
What the Hell Am I Doing?
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
I've got a pocket full of gold
And a ***** rock collection
Memories untold
In a moment of reflection
I'm homesick for the stars
While I'm talking to the moon
Out here praying to a tree
Just like a ****** loon
"Stand tall, brother and branch out wide." He tells me, "You do the same." The passersby laugh, and whisper, "He must be insane."
A scavenger spirit
A vulture to innocent souls
A moment of silence
And the crowd is out of control
Is it the end or just a passing phase?
Was there even a start to it all?
What's freedom worth, when mankind is cursed, a slave to its greed driven time?
Is it time to surrender my life to the Temple of Modern Salvation?
Every step towards heaven is another towards my damnation.
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
Can you tell the time from the smokes left in your pack? When your hour glass is broken and there's no tick left in your tock? This moment lasts so long, in the land of wishful thinking that we've forgetting where it even began. I guide you through the valleys within and you teach me to rest on a cloud. I've taken poison straight up the nose and I've smoked half of my life away, but no silver spoon or the sharpest syringe could make my blood rush the way that you do. You're my cold beer on a sunny day, my whiskey in the dark. You're my speed and slow, my midnight ****, the powder in my bag. You're the little white line sitting on my coffee table. So take me to the end of days, turn back the clock, and nurse me till I'm numb. Give me love and other drugs and say I'll be just fine. Then kiss me goodnight, and I'll overdose on dreams of you. When I wake, a resurrection of your love, I'll be high on nightmares past and the girl I've been dreaming of.
Sep 2016 · 124
Death
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
Went to sleep last night with the weight of the world on my shoulders
When I wake up tomorrow, I probably won't give a ****
The daily routine of finding balance
In manic depression, up or down
It really doesn't matter, cause my mind is still broken, my heart is still empty, and a little bit colder than it was yesterday. Every night makes me feel more dead when I'm sitting here alone, wondering if I ever lived at all. I think, so I am, but I'm still not me. They locked me in this mortal form and threw away the key. Somebody break me from my prison, make me feel alive. No one knows what's really going on inside.
They see that I hurt, they know that I feel, but no one knows that none of it's real. All at once, past, present, future, fantasy and brutal insanity exist within my mind. I'm just wondering what the **** is time?
Is it just a clock on the wall, waiting on you to call, and getting ****** to count another minute? Or is it the feeling I get when it all stands still, that moment that passes with a tick, but never in my memory? Can I *** a smoke? Can I take your life? I guess it's all the same when you live to work and work to live, while I'm just getting by, chasing another high, and wondering why the hell I can't die, no matter how I try. I've asked The Reaper if he needed some help, he said he knows his job.
So maybe I'm just a case file under a stack of papers waiting to be serviced. Waiting on that sweet release, feeling numb and perfect.
Sep 2016 · 184
I'm Stuck Inside
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
Living in my lacerations, underneath the scar tissue. The wounds healed, but I'm stuck inside, the only place that's safe to hide, the nightmare next door to my forearm tattoo. Sweet dreams are wishful thinking when the insomniacs rise, the night crawlers prowl and the afternoon dies. Show me where the honest man lies and I'll show you where the liar was falsely accused. He had no support, cause public defenders just don't exist when this whole ******* town is on the offense. They prey on the anguish of disturbed kids like me.
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
The days i don't remember are the ones who make it all so clear. The days I can't forget seem to last forever. The benders never fade, even when I'm too faded to recall. There's nothing I can trade to rise against the fall. Did you see me at my worst, when my worst felt like the best? Did you remember all the good times and persecute the rest. They found me in the bushes, curled up like a fetus. They said my heart stopped beating for at least a minute or so. They brought me back to life, when life was just too much. They paralyzed my nerves and threw away my crutch. Wednesdays are the worst, the checkpoint of the week. 20 years of running and the race has just begun. Sunday morning is a chore when your ox is in the ditch. Don't bother me this morning, I'm dreaming of last night. The night it all went down, the night it all came up. The elephant in the room busted through the roof. Don't bother me this morning, I don't know who I am. Amnesia caught me by surprise and hit me with a brick. Concussions and contusions, brain damage and bruises. Do you see what I see, when you open up the door? Everything in between everywhere. Everyone has a story, but it's hard to read their book. Don't read between the lines, because the words aren't there. Don't read the cliff notes, there's too much to sum up. Listen real close, look in my eyes, they say everything I don't. I don't speak, because my mind speaks in private. I would set a course, but I'm stuck on autopilot.. Crash and burn, rise from the ashes, and live amongst the stars. Don't spend your life earning age, don't spend your life wasting youth. Don't waste your time spending money, don't waste your money buying time. The parade is an invasion. They tell me fall in line. They poisoned me with laughter. They sedated me with tears. And through it all, They seem to bring about all my deepest fears.
Sep 2016 · 164
Goodbye Yesterday
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
I tried to drink, but the glass crumbled in my hands. I tried to smoke, but I couldn't remember how to strike a match. I tried to gamble. I played cards, but I couldn't remember how to bluff. I shot dice, but luck didn't find my favor that day. I felt small, weak, inferior, and infuriated. I couldn't hold the bottle, I couldn't light my fire, I just wasn't on my game. It wasn't like it was back in the good old days. The days when darkness drenched us with a spilled ink jar and severed us with a pen. We discovered night together, we discovered fire together, we learned how to play the game. The pen in our back, cloaked in ink. We wrote our stories this way. For a moment, we were on the same page, but slowly turned our own. Now the sunlight is shining in through both our window panes. I bet your looking out your window right now too. If you're reading this, I hope you're thinking about me, because you know I'm thinking about you. Thinking of how the darkness binds us, and our own light pulls us away. Don't be scared, don't be sorry. It had to happen this way. The crow keeps the time. Another year flies by. Another dream died. And they lived happily ever after, goodbye.
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
A broken bottle and a guitar pick. That's what I found on the stained oak kitchen table I found him passed out beside in the matching chair. I woke him and poured him some cold coffee left over from the *** he made this morning. He told me he had given up on his dreams. He went back to welding, like he did before the music and drugs took hold of him. Before she took hold of him. He said she was a singer at a shady dive in Memphis. She could call a bluff on any man who wasn't holding the right cards. She fast as a gunslinger from an old cowboy movie. She wore black leather pants and Lynyrd Skynyrd t shirts. She had curly blonde hair with just enough mousse for the 80's. She was hell on wheels and he was just a backwater kid from Dahlonega. It was his first night in town, but he knew she would make him stay forever. She sang a ballad she had written herself and after her set was over, he invited her back to his room for a duet on his grandpa's old Washburn. It wasn't long before they hit the road and not long after that, she hit the big time. Now he's sitting here next to a retired guitar pick and a broken bottle of bourbon, just waiting on his shift to start.
Sep 2016 · 280
The Bargain
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
I never bargained for life when I was begging for love. But now I'm here alone, living and loveless. I never bargained for love when I was begging for death, but she found me in a pit of bones, loathing and lifeless. Love doesn't need life to live, but it needs two to last. If one love dies, the other can live, but life and love can't resurrect the dead. You can dig up the bones and set fire to them to rid yourself of ghosts left behind. You can defibrillate half a heart, but you can't sew it back together. I never bargained for life when I was begging for love.
Sep 2016 · 1.5k
Partner in Crime
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
You drove my truck into the ditch
But I didn't pitch a fit
I told you to kick it in 4 wheel
And give it hell
We rode it out and laughed it off
Then we popped another top
Man I wish those days had never stopped

Nothin gold can stay
But we can only pray
Those golden gates are waiting there for you
What the hell am I supposed to do
When the world stops on a dime
And I've lost my partner in crime

You drove all the way to Atlanta
But I didn't take that ride
Cause I knew you'd drag me in your truck
And take me home
I hung up and blew you off
Now I know that you were right
I had lost my sight
Brother won't you take me home tonight

You cleaned up good after the storm
Around the time your son was born
I was so proud to see you walk that line
Yeah I know you're doing just fine
You always knew how to have a good time
What the hell am I supposed to do without my partner in crime

The last time you saw me
I was passed out in the yard
Somewhere outside my car
You threw me over your shoulder
Said its not too far
But don't you dare throw up on me
You set me down and said goodbye
You said I've got you anytime
My partner in crime
Sep 2016 · 214
Next Time
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
"Next time," he thought. Then he paused for a minute. He didn't know what he'd do next time. Hell, he didn't even know what he would've done different this time. But when things go wrong, it's usually apparent that at least something should be done differently. What though? What could he do to stop this tainted carousal and get on with his life? It was always the same old cycle of love and loneliness. What do you want most? Do you have a map to get there? He paced the floor for hours, but ended up nowhere. Not in his mind, not in this world. He was somewhere else. Somewhere in that photograph he burned, but kept the image and memory in his mind. It was Springtime in Atlanta. He was talking to the frog who lived in the fountain. His long hair fell in his face as he leaned over to whisper to the frog. She snapped the picture and the frog dove back into the fountain. No one knows what he said to the frog. He can't remember now, but he'd like to think it was something profound. Though, knowing himself, he figured it was probably something arbitrary like, "Do you know what time it is?" He thought about just a few short months later, how he hauled hay in the Georgia summer heat just to get them a bus ticket home. It was hard work, no doubt, but she was worth it. He walked out on the porch for the pleasures of a cheap smoke and lost himself in the chaotic ambience of the rain as he stared at the spot they used to sit and talk philosophy, music, dreams and other pressing matters over a glass of whiskey. He saw them vividly, though he saw them from the outside looking into an illusion. The green bandana wrapped around his long, greasy 18 year old hair that was now clean shaven upon his aging skull. She was wearing a blue plaid button  down, unbuttoned just enough for his amusement with shades of pink flowing through her blonde hair. They wore matching earrings. One for him, one for her. He wonders what happened to that earring. Did she keep the match to the one still resting upon his nightstand? Surely not. She probably wanted to rid herself of all the memories of him. Even the stuffed dog they had broken into a locked building to acquire. He was a little high at the time, but watching her pick that lock he couldn't get open, something sparked in the young rebel and he knew they would live forever.  "Next time," he thought, "I'll make love stay."
Sep 2016 · 171
My Only Friend
Ethan Deal Sep 2016
It can't always be a full moon
The light can't always shine on me
When the darkness closes in
I search for my only friend
My lunar companion
The one who controls my tides
As the waves crash upon beaches hidden to those who haven't ventured this far across merciless waters, a course set for anywhere
A dove guides my way
She extends an olive branch
A token of peace and prosperity
I turn my bow in a different direction
The path I've chosen leads me nowhere
I must find the place where my vessel makes birth
A home I've long forgotten
Roots I dug up long ago
Transplanted in infertile soil
Now I plant my seeds in a place
Where the full moon lasts forever
My lunar companion and I
Never wane or wax
We have rid ourselves of the shadows that once concealed our light
The long black clouds which once kept us apart
We say our last piece for the night
And gently lay our heads to rest
As Apollo rides his chariot across the sky, and casts the morning star upon the horizon
No matter though, once darkness closes in and the sun burns out the wick on his candle
My dear friend and I will be together once more

— The End —