I'm not a love poet,
My words are hallow,
And unexposed,
But I took everlasting pictures,
In my mind,
They never developed,
Little did you know,
It was you,
It was meant to be,
Beautiful.

I want to **** the purgatory from her veins,
And remove the God smitten, soul killin, Angel fallin, tumor from her brain,
But I've found myself in a coma of unrelenting change,
And though I wish I could rearrange her vision,
It's all in vein,
Because with every high I feel the farewell pour into my tissue,
I feel the acidic last kiss brand my skin,
I feel the claws of withdrawal in my back,
And I feel the Fates willing,
Its, Angels, Theirs, Demons, Mine, Heavens, Our, Gods,
End.
When did brimstone,
Build our home,
Of hell fire love,
With an all encompassing lust to cave in,
I used to believe that the dirt,
Under her fingernails,
Was from climbing mountains,
But the only peaks reached,
Were pharmaceutical,
The dirt accumulated,
By the 6 feet of shame,
She claimed,
When deemed insane,
After so many nocturnal labels,
I wonder if she remembers her own name,
But her pestilence proves dominant,
Her incompetence has vomited,
Over all that was prosperous,
Leaving her a preposterous life,
Trading her heart love pride and blood,
For a dime,
Of all the problems in the world,
She surely can't be mine,
My burden was our love,
Deduced to a memory,
Like a burial shrine.

Everything is temporary
Your hurt
Your home
Everything
Except for me
You'd smile while I cried
The unwavering voice
Of everything being alright
It was boldly defined love
The ability to assure the paranoid
Of their biggest fears escape
Permanence
You dug the word love into my frame
A sink hole impossible to rearrange
Or place anywhere other than my chest
It tattooed me painlessly
Our promises etched into my rib cage
We were an ecosystem within ourself
Our commitment a maze only we managed to navigate
I was so accustomed to your hand in mine
I'd began to think our roots had entwined
Our respiratory patterns had synced
Or was it that your breath shallowed
Like my own
From the deforestation leaving me to sink
As I watched you turn from man to stone
Lighting the match burning our home
You dropped so many hints
Just hard enough not to break
Me
But in the shards of glass and ruin
All I could see was your flaunted happiness
And my disintegrating memory
My inability to feel alone
Without feeling lonely
And I don't exactly know what I want
Other than little less empathy
And a little more apathy
And possibly a day of recovery
Spent in sobriety
I only know that I'm tired of crying to sleep
Over a man that says I'll love you like he'll stay
And cries when he leaves
My ribs promises want to scream
A congratulatory You Broke Me
But in my deterioration I'm stuck with only a memory
You were the only one that told me I smelled amazing after a cigarette,
And that is why the time I spent with you I could never regret
But you'd always hated that I smoke
Because you said I took our time and shortened it
But that's now proven irrelevant
Because I can't shorten what's meant to be permanent
But the ashes of your disappearance
Now fall on your conceptual forever
And within a matter of minutes we were consumed by the great inevitable.

I see a storm raging in your eyes,
With your black hole pupils at the center,
The way you push back your hair,
In that manically awkward motion,
Along with your longing to touch,
But impulsive fear to be touched,
All but assures me that my glances have not lied,
That every stolen look at you speaks truth,
The truth that I feared to accept,
But can no longer neglect,
Darling,
You are golden,
Radiating with an intensity,
That only suns should possess,
Taking staccato steps,
To hide yourself when you don't feel best,
And though you're blind to your perfection,
I see it in your,
3 AM voicemails full of I'm sorry's,
Sorry for possibly waking me,
And/or existing,
I see it in the way you,
Semi – Stutter your stunning name,
Which stifles me upon the saying,
I see it in the way your shoulders loosen,
A downward *****,
In defeat of being seemingly,
Socially accepted,
But darling,
You are golden,
With the way you,
Reflect the god of the sky,
With your deep brown eyes,
With the way you,
Take the femininity,
Out of singing in the shower,
With the way you make,
Self-loathing,
So unbearably sorrowful to watch,
But with a humbleness,
That is so,
Appealing its often wished of to be edible,
With a laugh,
That when fully unleashed,
Is so loudly addicting,
It should be considered carcinogenic,
Darling,
You are golden,
With every shallow breath you take,
After a night of red ringed eyes,
And a pounding headache,
With every grenade of a mistake,
That you've thrown in your future's way,
With every negative comment about yourself,
That no matter how many times I negate,
You will always believe,
Darling,
You are golden to me,
So I will rest here,
Awaiting the day,
That you accept the truth,
Behind my persistent compliments,
Awaiting the day,
That you don't feel,
Afraid of expressing anything other than being okay,
Because I am with you whether you're soaring or sinking,
Awaiting the day you,
Understand that I love you,
From your perfection,
Not from my pity,
Awaiting the day you realize,
That you are my definition of,
Forever,
And though I may not be golden,
I'll always stay.

There’s a ringing bouncing against the walls of the cellar of my brain,
Trapped forever where immortality will never permit an escape,
There’s a blind man within me,
Smiling while sighing through a silent movie,
There’s a little deaf girl in my mind,
Curled in a dark room shaking to the thundering bass,
This is the ignorance soaking my brain,
But I find that I am an infant in a pub,
Mother is nothing but a young pup,
But she has a loud bark and knows enough not to bite,
And my father is resting in his bed of dirt,
As he lacked the hero to match his heroine,
There’s a monk at a cocktail party,
Humming chants to himself,
While tracing the split of her skirt to the split of his soul,
There an atheist in a church,
Praying to something big,
For his lover who evaporated with a bang,
And a pacifist who sits in his one bedroom in Compton,
Soaking in the red rain,
And there’s an anarchist preaching on the highway,
Shouting the ways of yin and yang,
But this is not ignorance,
This is the epitome of competence,
The ability to analyze pain,
This is the love and hate in my soul,
A blind man and a deaf girl in my conversing in my brain,
A monk holding the hand of an atheist in my heart that is pumping,
The raging of God and the Devil,
Through my veins

I try to count the ceiling fan blades as they swirl around,
People thought this was cute when I was small,
Especially when I was clocked in the head while counting upon a top bunk,
I'd hear voices behind me sometimes that seemed like a distant echo in a tunnel,
All I could focus on was the whir of the fan.

This interest in fan blades extended to wheels,
As cars would drive by I'd match the rhythm of the engine to the movement of the wheel,
It wasn't cute anymore,
While the voices behind me shifted tones I tried to pull myself away from the passing Toyota out of the window,
ADD was the only word that stuck,

While my therapist would talk I'd focus on her flickering desktop lamp,
Which was uselessly consuming energy to light an already lit desk,
Occasionally she'd say my name a few times and click her pen,
But it wasn't until she'd switch the lamp off leaving me only 7.5 seconds to hear its buzz and see it's dimming flicker,
That I could focus on her words,
And as the phrase 'no improvement' escaped her lips the only things I could think of were synonyms,
I turned one over and over in my mind
Failure.

When we'd walk I'd let his sweaty hand slip into mine,
Ignoring the manual moisture,
Instead I'd focus on his pulse,
Its rhythm kept me at bay,
It suspended me there in time,
Away from fans and wheels and reality
My focus solely on him,
So I'd lie still and listen to his heart beat,
Feeling a smile creep to his face,

I am no longer lost at sea with my focus however I'm not in bay,
I lie in the gulf bouncing between presence and absence,
My therapist who is now the only person that can speak to me and tolerate my pace,
Says I've improved,
But instead of focusing on the synonym Win,
I focus on making my brain push against the strain of the pill.

The voices behind me are now completely gone unless made my main focus,
I can not smile and verbally respond simultaneously,
I no longer have the speed to count my fan blades,
I focus on his heartbeat quicken with anger as he shouts,
I cannot love a zombie.

This car dealership coffee and styrofoam cup,
Makes me wonder how I'd live,
If I were to surrender or run,
Everything seems so paper here,
So two-dimensional so thin,
Suburban castles could be blown away by reality's wind,

I wonder how the people still exist,
Cardboard prop ups,
Nobody knowing the world or love,
Just what propaganda has told us,
Nobody realizes we are not alive,
Slaves to the modern idea of conformity and strife,

People claim find god in glory and wealth,
Along with a prescribed happiness,
But god drifts in the air and in the sea,
She is the desert breeze and the rain of spring,
Wars rage over unknowns rulers' precedence,
Rather than breathing the carcinogen air of humanity's present,

And I just watch,
Drifting to come close to living,
Loathing to come close to loving,
Mentally deteriorating to come close to reality,
Dying to come close to faith,
Dying to come close to an escape,
Dying to come close to clarity,
To life,

If I were submerged in the dirt,
I'd be held by god,
And embraced by Allah,
Consumed by all deities who are one in the same,
And loved for what stories my disintegrating bones told,
Rather than my fresh faced human skin,
Rather than my cardboard exterior,
Rather than my papered mask,
I'd find life by dying,
And faith by death,

So ask me once more why I smile through my cancer bearing 7 minutes of heaven,
In this paper mansion of a business,
Ask me why I let the caffeine soak through my veins and over stimulate my heart,
From this industrialized styrofoam cup,
Though you already know,
I'm only doing what we all are,
Trying to find out how to exist,
Only I've realized it's not about life,
It's about the exit.