You remind me of the rain
Poetic. Beautiful.
Silent yet deafening.
Something I have always been fond of yet feel engulfed by loneliness when I am in its company.

You remind me of the rain.
Beautiful and tragic.
I can't comprehend how you are both but you are.

Both beautiful,
and tragic.

The walls were blue or
Maybe, grey and
Your eyes were brown
Your hair, the same
The music so soft
An echo in my mind
The hours drifted slowly
The worst passage of time

My voice, once sure
Now hesitant and shy
My heart, once pure
Now broken and dying
In the moonlight through the window
You looked at me like a ghost
As you told me, so cruelly
I was not the man you loved the most

Terrified of growing older
When work is an obligation
They have no sympathy
For a mental health vacation

Locked up in my room
Voices in my head shouting
Saying I should **** myself
That's the only way out  it

So forgive me if I'm reckless
While I'm still young
Because I don't give a **** if I live
Past 21

Why do I even bother listening to the music.
Why do I even bother finding the words.
Why should I ever try, given that everything I do ends in failure.
I will never be him. I will never be like him.
And I cannot be him for you.
I know that I am not passionate,
I am not exciting,
I am in fact very plain.
And it doesn't matter that being plain would mean stability.
It doesn't matter that all he leaves in his wake are ashes.
Why does it ever matter, if all the flowers I have ever planted are fated to die.
Tell me, give me a reason why I should care.
I am mired in my mediocrity, stuck with myself.
I used to think I was lost somehow,
That no,
No there is a place for me out there.
I take that back, I thought there must be a place for me.
Well I guess that I was wrong.
Everyone keeps telling me what I deserve,
But I can't help but think that they are lying.
So I am left to my aches and my longings.
Left to watch my garden never grow.

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunset
to make up for the way it hides behind skyscrapers;
masses of brick and glass that join the sky at right angles,
Like Atlas and his children
and all his children's children gathered together
to hold up the earth we created,
The sky we created,
With all our city smells of restaurants
and power plants
and cigarettes.
Of course we’re addicted

We are all constellations
Traced from the electric lights we substitute for stars
Even though we know we cannot replace them.
We have to remind ourselves
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are stars out there somewhere,
There are scars out there somewhere,
There are scars somewhere,
And they bleed out of peaceful park fountains and
The city grew roots around them,
Fluorescent scar tissue pumping subway cars through
Tangled arteries carrying passengers
That are fifty-seven percent coffee, add a turbo shot of Business suit and
a serving of secondhand smoke.
Of course we’re addicted

There is a thickness to the air here.
It deepens the colors of the sunrise,
But we cannot see it from below the ground.
Of course we’re addicted