he told me, "put down the cigarette,"
worried i'd get sick.
i looked at him with regret,
craving nicotine like a nervous tick.
we left around half past twelve,
just to clear the air,
leaving my heart on the shelves.
he asked, "is this really fair?
breaking my heart this way?"
he reiterated his worry.
and i laughed it all away
"don't fret, my honey.
i'm clean and new.
my heart has been glued
and is no longer in two.
i'm eating my food -
see look! my ribs!
they're aren't as pronounced.
maybe one day we really can have kids."
his hand held mine as he denounced
that i was still no good
i was still no better
than before emotions would flood
his heart, i still his debtor.
so on i went,
forward to the waves,
and on this pole i leant,
until i came to with sun's rays...
and i became one with the sea.
she is more than i would ever be.

I torture myself in many ways.
Be it these cigarettes,
that bottle,
those songs,
or your letters.

When the sun goes down
my little sister asks
"Can I see the moon?"
So I hold her hand and take her outside
and sometimes we don't see it
but on nights like tonight
it shines brighter than it should.
Brighter than it has any reason to.
Yet Audrey thinks it's pretty
and I guess that's reason enough.

I remember the night,
when Guardian Angel, My Best friend, The Girl Who Fancies Scared Faces and myself drove up to a moonlit
little place called Sugarloaf Mountain.
And at the top
we drank cheap wine,
smoked cheaper cigarettes
(Hey man, they're all we got)
and each took turns playing a song.
My Guardian Angel started with Neutral Milk Hotel,
then My Best Friend played The White Stripes,
then The Girl Who Fancies Scared Faces played Atmosphere,
and finally I used my turn on Clapton.

We drank more beer
and smoked the last cigarette,
and laughed,
and laughed,
and marveled at how beautiful the moon was and how it doesn't need a reason to shine.
I ended up in My Guardian Angel's bed, after some more cigarettes and beer and ****.
We shared kisses and cuddles and laughs and sweat.

thinking about all of it lately,
when is the next day like the last
payday,
when is the next day like the last
kiss
we shared,
when is the next day like the day
most feared,
No where to go,
No where to sleep,
No where to eat,
No drink,
No one to love me,
most feared see?
no pillars to support
life as needed,
oh but I am not being clear,
Another fear,
using big words,
so there are biological needs
So insecure about personal safety,
so shy to ask a friend to be a friend,
(and don't bring up the f - word (family) or SI)
respectfully don't address my self-esteem,
when it and I are in the same room,
lastly actually realize there is creativity,
in the moment, but look at me, do you see
any of it, mostly tell the truth to me,
I will accept the facts you find.
If I am not available I am looking inside,
so knock most loudly, if I am not present
or aware.

©DWE102013

**** this,
i cant write for ****
besides the fact that i'm finger banging this keyboard.
i wish my thoughts weren't so dim;
i want to be bright like them, "those guys"
or that ******* diamond rihanna keeps ranting about,
but i can't because i'm crammed up against tons of *******
and it smells like **** in here.

Filthy, I just feel filthy;
not like I need to shower filthy,
but filthy as in rad.