The muse died
I put a stake through her heart
Put her in the ground

She will no longer
**** away my sleep
Trade my time for trinkets of rhyme

I left her
In an unmarked grave
So soon to be forgotten

She will no longer
Rise at first moon
To haunt my memories

Like a simple twist of fate
She looked astonished
The first blow upon the stake

I dust off my hands
And lay my shovel down
I'm going home

I will lay down
And go back to sleep
all within my ease

But before I do
I'll throw another poem
Upon the towering stack

let me give you my life

On top of a stained mattress
There is no love,
just oxycodone-loading-
and memories, "Tender, please"-
take ten of these-don't fake a dose
because I am close.
I am close.
I am close to you.

I feel okay, I feel okay
Well, I don't know-I don't show.
"Wait, don't go."
I feel okay, I feel okay

We don't show, no.
"Wait, don't go."
There are only memories
of when we were young guns.
We are too true-
take your oxycodone-
and it's terrifying.

On top of a star,
"You'll go far."
I love you enough to go to L.A.-
I feel okay, I feel okay-
Take your oxycodone
to get through the day.
And kiss me goodbye
before you try
to swim through the stratosphere,
my dear-it's clear.
It's near.

"Wait, I want to say-
before I slow motion
this emotion
that starts with a commotion
in my chest-
that I love you best
and it hurts to let go,
but it's not because of you.
I didn't know.
I didn't know what to do.

And it's true,
and that's what makes it terrifying.
My world is salt,
my sluggish love.
So, take your oxycodone,
because you don't want to feel what I feel.
And you don't want to reel like I reel."

I feel okay, I feel okay
Well, I don't know-I don't show.
"Wait, don't go."
I feel okay, I feel okay

We don't show, no.
"Wait, don't go."
There are only memories
of when we were young guns.
We are too true-
take your oxycodone-
and it's terrifying.

I don't feel like doing much of anything anymore
except just sit in silence
sleep,
and listen to music.

Punk lips in perpetual paralysis,
and they're too afraid to let them kiss.
Too afraid to try to let it last
because of the blurs in their past.

I think the kids are in trouble.
Hanging out with temporary people;
making the wrong times never stop.
Smoking dreams with glass lovers
to indie sonnets and neon power pop.

The world knows they can pretend,
and it's their hearts they can't defend
from the illusion of what they could be,
and the loneliness of what they'll never see.

They skate the pavement until the sun sits,
and drink ***** from water bottles until their hurt slurs.
It's the preparation of tomorrow and what it may not bring
that makes every moment before, everything.

They're scared because it's real,
and I'm scared because they're scared.

Rain patters on the window
hurricane winds whistle round about
my mind.
I hear the rain, amazed that the sun's rays
still fall to earth, warming and nurturing

Cocooned in a throw, I look at the room
I've lain in for three days in a pain of my making.
I've become a cliche, the madwoman in the attic
lamenting lost love, lost life.
Cruelty knows no bounds, yet it binds.

Rhythmically the rain batters at the panes.
I don't want praise, I like my malaise
I feel real when I feel pain
I lie slain on the floor, amidst the wreckage
of a marriage.

I've died over and over these last three days
I want to get up and comfort you
To tell you that your life will go on
Mine had to end. I'm sorry you found me
on the floor, tablets strewn everywhere.

Baby steps now my love
you knew I was broken,
there's only so many matryoshka dolls in the original
I'm still here my love, it's just better that
you don't see me, but I can watch over you.

Your heart is broken, filling with rain and tears
my heart and soul was broken when the ink was dry
on the paper declaring us over.
When I get up from the floor, I want you to listen to the rain and
know it's me, my ghost knocking at your door.