The hammock swallowed us that night in a cocoon of love, the crickets were as monotone as the symphonies of the love songs we've heard a thousand times before.
In my arms I held you, knowing that in a world of expressions all you wanted was acceptance, and after all the deceptions I just wanted to be the exception. You offered yourself to me in that space, a space where I didn't need to worry about being strong, in a world where strength mattered, all the weight of the world was lifted off my back at once. My head was clear, as clearly as you cried out, and the skies bathed our pale skin in its own mellow tint. You felt me for who I was, no preconception or misconception mattered in that moment, for you knew, as my lips passed messages for us, and only us, through yours, that no acid washed memories would catch up to us now.

He looked up from the pavement that stretched for thousands of miles,
Only to see buildings climb light years into the heavens.
Looking ahead he saw the beauty that had escaped the comprehension of man for millennia, captured entirely in the space of her frame and the glint of her eyes.
He walked forward, heart and hand open.
She met him on the ground that moved beneath them, yet their steps were solid.
She took his heart and gave it life,
Seen to her as mere heartbeats,
But to him, it was
          Bliss.

No matter how many bridges I'd burn to create distance between us,
I'd always find a way back across the river to you,
But I'm running out of boats,
And soon I'll drown while making that crossing

When the cold people come out, come out from their earthy graves,
They creep to your windows, and slip under your doors.

When the cold people come inside, come inside to reach into your whole,
They flood your mind, and rush your soul.

The cold people come into your memories, make scenes seem more sinister than they are,
They make you lash out, leaving to others only fresh scars.

The cold people cause you to leave,
when you shouldn't,
when you usually wouldn't,
pushing you to drastic measure you thought you couldn't.

The cold people are the memories of you, the body of me you buried in your yard.
The pictures we burned, the lesson you never learned.

They only come for me, they will not set me free. But I know you refuse to face yourself, so I hope you're happy, so ignorantly free.

I remember that night. I felt weird after getting home from you, and went to take a shower. I took off my shirt and saw the prints of your kisses, your lipstick stained on me, my chest. In the darkness that night I thought your lipstick was black, but then I saw in the light that it was actually a very dark tint of purple, which was my favorite color. You knew that.
     Looking back on that I feel alone. But not the sad, "just want someone to cuddle with" kind of loneliness, but the kind of loneliness mankind will most likely feel in a few centuries, having made no contact with anything extraterrestrial. Sending out its signals, only to receive silence that could break any eardrum with its volume, receiving no word that we aren't as alone as we think. Hopefully, we aren't.
Hopefully, I'm not.
Until we hear the call, the signal, we'll only hope that we aren't the only one of our kind out there.
Just like I hope.

If Death was my best friend,
would I go through life unnerving and unafraid?
Would I read through the book of my life, feeling no fear to turn each page?
I would roam where the unwary stumble across the bones of the lost,
fighting for my freedom at any age and at any cost.
I would face my enemies and speak the truth, even if knowing it would lead to my demise
Flank my adversaries and catch them by surprise!
But alas, Death is the friend of no man,
He'll grip you in his icy grasp, regardless of dreams or plans,
He is no respecter of age, youth or elder
Wether you are lost in the storm or already to shelter.
But still I shall not be afraid.
I shall go through the story of life and not only turn, but rewrite every page
For this is my story, for me to rise up and accept my glory,
Wether it be fame, shame or neither
I'll live my life on my terms,
No longer distracted through your intoxicating memory,
No longer wishing to breathe you in like ether

I finally went past my limit, then I sat in the tub
I felt the senses drain away, for once I only felt love
My throat tasted awful, my nose itched
My heart and soul were breaking, being ripped from where they were once stitched
I was fading in and out,
For the first time, I didn't have a doubt,
I couldn't give up, I couldn't tap out
I felt the blood trickle out of my nose, and I know it's been too much
I don't pray often, due to my strong sense of disbelief and such,
But I'm not ready to give up fighting,
Maybe the Earth still needs my touch

I've always felt darkness, poking at my insides, but now, it's trying to rip me apart at the seams.
And for once it seems to be winning, and for once I don't know if I care.

"Do you ever miss me?", she asked, right before taking her lipstick-stained cigarette to her rose embalmed lips.
     "Do you want the truth, or the answer I tell everyone else when they ask that question?"
     She followed me out onto that porch earlier, from that loud room, filled with loud music and loud smoke. Before this night I hadn't seen or heard from her in months, but I knew seeing her again was inevitable. Hell, we had the same friends, I lived with one of them for God's sake.
    Her eyes avoided mine, but I wouldn't look away until she answered. I hoped so badly she would want the lie, so I could tell her no and she could think I overcame what she did to me, that I overcame coming home to that empty room where she was supposed to be. I didn't want to have to tell her that I miss her more and more with every passing moment, that I can't get her out of my head no matter how many of my funny smelling cigarettes I smoke down to a nub and how many sleepless nights I have that I don't tell anyone about. I couldn't tell her that I still search at the bottom of every bottle for her,  only to find that it's dry and barren. Her eyes finally meet mine.
     She says, "I was never good with choices"
     "Well I was never good with a lot of things"
     I see the pain in her eyes, which dart down again because she knows exactly what I'm talking about. But I know I'd see even more pain, and water in those eyes if I told her everything I wanted to say. That after she left I couldn't help but stick my **** in anything that moved, that I was constantly in pursuit for the rush I always had with her, and it was always fleeting. That the pills she had help me save myself from were in my system right now, making the weight on my chest from her being there even heavier.
     "I don't miss you. I'm doing better."
     I tossed my half-smoked cigarette into the yard instead of the ashtray in plain sight. Some stones are better left unturned. You can awaken a snake hiding under it, and there's no point in fighting a snake who's venom you know you have no defense against. I couldn't tell her that I needed to lay my head against her stomach to feel normal. I didn't need to tell her that I was sorry for the scars I left her, on her soul. She didn't need to know that I often thought of putting a shotgun shell through the roof of my mouth, either so these thoughts could leave me be forever, or so the damage caused by several lead pieces of buckshot punching through my skull would cause me to not know who she was and what she had done to me.
     I turn and step inside, and pour myself another drink.

Illness becomes wellness, when "I" is replaced we "we",
So let me cure our souls, let me lightly sow our seeds
The seeds grow as energy, in fields as far as the eye can see
The universe thanks us dearly, for only what we chose to be
We chose to valiant, like sunflowers that grew away from the sun
We bloomed still and shined like medallions, but never received any medals for something we won
So now you ask to start a new story, but my best chapter has already begun
Don't sever my stalk, don't talk when you can't walk,
For now that my field has been harvested, your shadow in my dreams I shall stalk.

The dying light of conformity is now merely an ember in my soul,
I find I cannot atone for liberating my being
Yet I wish I could be ignorant, it truly is bliss as they say
I find myself more detached every ongoing day

There’s no better feeling than being wanted.

Nothing shakes you quite so much to your core as the knowledge of being not.

My hands are tied behind my back and my entire being is in a tight knot, swollen and gripping to different parts of myself, so bound together by my own actions that I couldn’t undo the forces that hold me the way I am if I even wanted to.

You lost yourself somewhere along the way, somewhere as dreamy as the sounds you speak in,
We all do at some point, it happens,
Some call it growing up, I call it lying down,
I tried looking for what you lost in the wreckage of this town,
in smoldering piles of rubble and ash,
but nothing was to be found,
at least nothing that would last,
And now I see my Femme Fatale,
Lost in a mixture of sheets and other's ballads,
Come back to yourself
Not for me

An angelic hum rings out from the sight of you,
Asleep, comfortably.
I could have gazed for years, decades if I had the chance,
But time does not bend to my will the way I did to yours
Only then, did earth-shaking tremors rock your spine,
Then you were given what was yours, I had to steal mine.
But now it's mine for the taking, but I know to stay in line.
Here we go, leaning over the edge, ready to fall, I wonder what I'll find.

I know a girl.
She's full of life, love, living like it's the only verb she's ever heard.
I consider myself to not know her very well, despite how good of friends we are, have been, whatever we are now, which is strange because she feels as if I know her better than she knows herself. Maybe I do, but my mind wants to think I don't to drive me closer to her soul.
She has the kind of face, the kind of pep in her step that makes the world feel still, even when it's shaking from all the evil polluting it these days.
She stands tall like a queen, while I exhale my poisons.
I can spill my truest thoughts, the painful ones, she, and only she can understand. She sees me as I am.
She is truly a goddess, with a warrior spirit.
Despite all these thoughts, I still feel scared to gaze on her frame. Every moment we have is thought over thousands of times, analyzing like my anxious mind tends to do. But yet when I'm with her, my mind is quiet. Sleepy, almost. God knows I need the rest.
She has a spirit that makes me want to say sorry to her. For everyone who never did. But I can't. I couldn't tell her any of this. So I'll just continue to gaze.
But I can still hear the choirs of Heaven behind her voice, and my soul tremors as she steps away.

You called me your God once, in the heat of a fiery moment,
But I know that can't be true.
For now if I was a God, I'd split your soul in two,
Much like the Gemini curse that follows me where I go.
Much like the thoughts of you, that follow me to and fro.

Our love wasn't based on how many times I could make you scream
It wasn't based on how many tears we shed
Or how many bottoms of bottles we saw together
It was based on the meals I made for you,
On the cups of tea you prepared for me
Or when I'd take care of your baby brother, so you could sleep a little longer, even though I'm not good with kids
Our love wasn't measured in cigarette butts,
Or pills split down the middle
No rush would make up for time lost
It wasn't the miles walked late at night to see each other,
Or what we'd do once we got alone
It was how I spoke to you in front of my friends,
Not what you told them when I wasn't around
Now I have no love to measure, for the people in my life to the things in front of me
I blame you, even though it's my fault
I'm cold,
Please,
Stoke the fire in my heart one more time
Before I die of hypothermia

I'm still learning to be a brother,
I'm still learning to be a lover,
So I do understand, how you could move on to another.
Let his fire ignite your soul, for I know I left you broken and cold.

A lonely man on an island,
Could barely stand on his feet, wasn't surprising
Cause life struck him hard, and quick like it was lightning
For him it was frightening
And on the last day of his life, he was even afraid of dying
He looked and realized he should have tried,
All those missed chances just flying before his eyes,
So death became more of curse but barely in disguise,
It made him wish that maybe he hadn't lied,
And maybe he shouldn't hide,
The boatman is here to take him to the other side,
So there's no more time
He didn't realize
That by the time everything was in front of his eyes,
He couldn't touch it

I remember the way you shook, you quivered,
You soaked every word up that my mouth did deliver.
You told me I was beautiful, for a second a believed you,
Only for you to pull me closer, using my body to relieve you.
Our tongues entwined, our bodies twisting,
I whisper I Love You,
I receive nothing more than shushing.
You took my weakness, made it your pleasure,
Your deepest parts becoming my ultimate endeavor.
You told me to trust in you, when only I should have lusted you,
For after I delivered my desires,
you made me feel ugly, vain, sick, and twisted.
And now I have so many pains, they cannot be listed.
I write my poetry, as you see the pain in my eyes,
You know you're the cause, don't act as if it's a surprise
But when you do this, all of this, and don't have the guts to even sit near me in a room full of friends,
No one has the right to tell me when my pain should end.

Remember when I held you close, and gave you words to heal
Telling you the drug fueled thoughts were too far to be real

Remember when we turned to the warm death of cigarettes, to pull ourselves from each other's cold embrace
I'd light one to catch my breath
but even the pointless irony of of it all wasn't enough to pull myself back and choose a better pace

Remember climbing under fences, to climb my walls?
only to build them higher
I trusted that your spirit would make them fall
But now I'm empty and tired

Like a poem with no determined rhythm, you made my heart beat rapidly and off beat
Now as I hide behind my chosen serums,
Of gin and Jameson and days without sleep

I know that you don't maintain my walls,
And that only I can make them fall.

I do not care what clothes you choose to wear,
As long as the bare form underneath is mine to hold at night.
I do not care what words you say, as long as it is that voice that whispers to me in the dark.
I couldn't care less how cold your soul is, as long as it is your warmth that I feel against me.
I do not care for the sins on your conscience, that bother you so much, as long as you don't mind mine.
I don't care for the past,
I don't care if I'm last,
For as long as I'm not being had,
I don't see how loving you is so bad.

A soul full of soot and sin,
A room of people not used to the climate they're in,
A group of thieves wanting to pursue a night of petty crimes,
further cloaking their city in grime.
No one realizes it,
I play my part and do my bit,
While the world just lays back and sits,
While missing out on the greatest of it.
The canyons they won't scale,
The lakes they won't swim in,
****** into a life of conformity and "fitting in"

These surveying eyes hold water well,
They haven't sprung a leak yet
With every soothing melody I see out of the corner of my vision, your hands retreating behind corners, into shadows
There's no use in looking around those corners, into those shadows
I've spent much time there to know you aren't there yourself, and I'll only find myself,
Which isn't as amazing as everyone wants it to be,
Being alone with your mind is only fun with an interesting one

These moments move much too fast
For the shuttering of cameras to capture
Blurry stills are all we have,
The album seems to fill up faster
Before we're grown and taunt
Lessons burned and bridges taught
Sit still
And capture her beauty before it moves again

I remember the way you smiled, and I would tell you how much I loved to see it.
You'd immediately say you hated the shape of your lips,
The way you always complained about the shape of your hips,
And I never understood.
For if such things could bring someone like I such happiness, how could you not see them as more than good?

It's not often that mere conversation like we had makes me feel so intrigued, but when you sang those few songs your voice made me feel tranquility in a dose I've truly never felt. My heart fluttered, and if I hadn't been floating in a pool I would have had to sit down, my knees were so weak. You couldn't see in the darkness but I was in awe, so much so that if we had been standing in a room full of art, I only could have looked at you.
I swear you turned the night sky into tie dye, a hippy haven for my mind. On heavens hill I found my soul, all my anxieties flowed out. I drank more slowly once your voice came forward, it was much more intoxicating than the lager I had chosen. I knew all these feelings may have been the alcohol, but I decided, **** it. I never feel intrigued, I was so surprised to have my interests peaked, that I would entertain myself and you, because for once, I didn't freeze.

I awoke the next morning, after sleeping off my chemicals, both the ones I ingested and the ones my body produced at the sight of such a pleasing specimen of the female form. I found my head hurting, but remembered the sights I saw, the glow of the stars and string lights, melted in my memory to form a tie dye blot, the colors meddled together. It was as astronomically beautiful as you had been the night before.

What if your memories shattered like a plate, dropped from a kitchen table?
Would the fracture screaming through the porcelain cut through the darkest hours of your life, stopping you from saying those words that killed a flame you had with someone you weren't ready to part with?
Would that break in the chinaware cut through the air, and stop his hand from coming down on your cheek, already stained from your running mascara because of the words he said?
Would these memories have changed?
I think no.
Much like a broken plate, after a certain point, you can't go back to those nights and stop yourself, stop what they did, much like you can't go back to the second when your elbow brushed that plate just enough for it to topple over.
There's not much use in crying over a broken plate, but you can clean up your mess, and get a new one, a better one, and learn, to be more aware, for when that plate is about to fall.

After that night, I didn't have to look to the skies to see stars.
I didn't have to look into a pool to see waters worth wading in, for I found the depths whose pressure I could stand right there in your eyes.
I saw the stars when I reached heaven with you, our skin, sweating, pressed against each other. I looked God in the eyes and said, "We are one", and he made it so. But even then I couldn't have said that I loved you, which is when the stars began to fall down upon me, leaving craters in my soul.
Your whispers, your form and figure in the night were mine and mine only. We went deeper, entwining even our souls, every ounce of spirit we had was given. But in finding those waters I forgot how to swim, and I began to drown in your presence from thereon out.

I sat in the field of broken homes,
watched the sun shine bright, down where nothing roams
I heard the sharp violins cut through the blades of grass,
bass rising from the ground, sounds of only the lower brass
I laid back my body, and threw forward my mind
to rest where the drugs know my name, but they know I don't mind
Reading this, they'd probably say I'm sad,
But only I know the true meaning,and I would say, I've been had

A friend once said she wished she could get as inspired as I do sometimes,
And I certainly hope she finds her inspiration,
But never in the way I have.
I've found my inspiration in the gutters of people souls, myself included,
In witnessing the lashes someone can put in someone's spirit with their whips of words,
I've been the sufferer and the abuser
I found it in the anguish I came from, from finding a dying parent
Finding a quiet friend in a casket
From the brinks I brought myself too
It's tragic, I could never wish this on her
I wish her to find her inspiration humming from the strings of her guitar
From biting sips of wine
From a man who hopefully sees her as she is
And hopefully never from the abyss from which I take my chances
She should get hers from fast nights and slow dances,
From laying low in high places,
I think of you often,
By her I've surely been forgotten,
I wish the best,
But one thing I know is I'll keep the rest

You set the night on fire that night. I saw you in that red dress, one of my favorites. It was weird, because all I could imagine was taking it off of you and bringing you closer to me. It was weird because by that point we were both sick and disgusted by each other's touch. Or so we said. No matter how far apart we slept on that mattress we would still wake up entangled, I'd always feel your hand creep close first. I'd always accept. I couldn't turn down such a touch, such a stoking of the flames in my soul. I thought I could never truly tire of it. But now that I'm here, after experiencing many more touches, I've realized a lot. Mainly, that you didn't deserve that, and I shouldn't have accepted. But looking back on it regretfully won't help, will it? So I'll just pretend it was worth it, until I feel that sensation again.

I always think I know it all,
Yet every day I learn so much.
I think of how I don't miss you at all,
Yet every night I yearn so much.
You were the spine to the book of my life,
The stitches closing the wound from their knife,
But now my pages are out of order, like a scrambled and hurriedly written essay,
And I'm bleeding out every second, even to this day.