I’m insecure
And that is okay
In a way
Yes i should work on it
No i should not be
Criticized
Disrespected
“Proven wrong”
Or anything else
Because that is normal
And no matter what
We are all beautiful

Without her
What am I supposed to do?
Words lose their meaning.
Taste
Sight
Sound
Touch.
Without her
What do I have?
Bland
Darkness
Silence
Emptiness.
Without her.

There's a storm in my teacup,
An ache in my head,
A plethora of words,
That are better unsaid.

There's a monster inside me,
That never stops speaking,
Though I try to control,
The havoc it's seeking.

You think I'm a good person,
But I do not agree,
My friend: you only judge me,
Based on what you can see.

The seven sins
Are my edicts
I will not stop

Hey, You
                                    absolutely gorgeous thing
Don't you know
                                    every guy is gonna want you?
                    
                    That's what I think is gonna happen.

You're always right
                                      I don't know everything about you.
But sometimes I think that
                                      You might not know a lot about me
        
                     Either.

Hey, You
                                     absolutely troubled thing
Everything is gonna be just fine
                                                                Right?

Hey, You
                                      Please answer me
You're gonna be okay. It's not the end.
                                                                        Right?

Hey, You... You're not gonna forget me?
                                       Even after all of the small things we did?
I know that they don't mean much to you, but
                                       it did to me

Sorry you didn't see it the same way. But, it was still nice.

Hey... You know that I'll always be there for You

                        for You
                                                                   for You

                                             For You

one more year
all but done
2 4 mins to spare

cold beers in hand
we sit on grass
and listen to folk band

our fingers touch
our hearts combine as
the years dwindles

the god boy dreams
with arms thrown wide
the lateness having beaten
his desire to see in the new

i think of those who
drifted of to places better
so far beyond our human touch
and to those we welcomed

the time counts down
as i stare at the sky
and wish for blessings and grace
but knowing that there
will be measures of sadness too

farewell to you 017
you were mostly good
and yes  i will
remember you kindly

the night becimes a carnival
the god boy lurches awake
and we stand hand in hand
as the new rushes to meet us

am i dead?
sometimes i think i am dead
because
i want nothing more
than to be as pale
as the ghosts in my head

And when he does not love me anymore,
I will build him
one last altar,
and decide to burn it to the ground.

But will only get as far
as lighting the match.

Thinking about how he used matches
for something.
Sometime.
Probably.

I'll brush my teeth,
thinking of the gaps between his.
How really,
it's a great metaphor for the distance between out hearts
or something stupid like that.

But in the end,
it's not a metaphor,
or an analogy.
They're just teeth.
(That could never quite come together
kind of like us)

I will crawl into bed
imagining an alternate universe
in which we have started a life together.
One where I wake up and reach across the bed for him.
Get the kids ready for school,
which is funny
because in this universe I never wanted children,
but in that universe,
we created something out of nothing.
Something with his eyes,
and my nose.
A manifestation of the love between two people.
Proof that it happened.
That is was real.
And it was resilient enough to breathe life into a world
that only offered it death.

In that universe,
our hair turns as silver
as our wedding rings.
And each wrinkle,
is a space where our skin just wanted
to hold the other person even closer.


But here
in this harsh reality,
time only pulls us apart.
And we will likely grow gray
with other people now.

In this universe,
I learn to say goodbye
to him.


I will build him
a library of poems.

And decide to burn it to the ground.

Being suicidal when you’re really young is so sad and weird because you stop seeing yourself in the future, you can’t even imagine what you could possibly be doing in a year from now, sometimes a month and each day you're wondering if today is the day, the day you have enough courage to do it, or if someone will handle it for you. You're walking down the street and a speeding car is coming, you don't move, you hope it hits you. You lose hope, it makes it harder for you to get better, or believe that it ever will. You start to live as if you're dead already..