The more it hurts
The more I smile
because the smile has the power
To make it useless.

If I could turn back time
I would hit Backspace all day,
Id put on Caps Lock
and SHOUT what I say.

I'd use the whole Alphabet
To tell you hello,
Press seven Numbers
Til you picked up the phone.

I'd Tab through the comments
I didn't want to hear,
And use the Arrow Keys
To drag your body near.

I would Delete the harsh words
I didn't mean to speak,
And Insert the "I love yous"
I before couldn't leak.

I would use Ctrl to
Keep reigns over my heart,
And I would Escape lies
That tore us apart.

I'd Print out your photo
And kiss it goodnight,
Use the Calculator
To check that we were right.

I'd Paint you a picture
of us, you and me,
Then I'd hit Enter
Just so you would see.

Those are the things
I would do in my strife,
If only Backspace
worked in real life.

Rainy seasons are not always the best seasons.
Some use the rain for their crops;
Some use the rain to induce their sleep;
Some use the rain to hide their tears.

She Comes.

By way of storm.

the waters winding
in a fury of death.

And She. is painting
the sky

Black.

For now.

Is it that he's older
Or that he's better looking?
Is it because when he looks down his stomach doesn't hide his belt buckle and can run from place to place without loosing his breathe?
Is it because his sweatshirts don't smell like cigarettes?
Or perhaps it's because he doesn't struggle to speak in large social settings.
Is it that he can make you laugh
Better or more often than I?
What makes him better then me

I wonder how
Many Friday nights
I have ruined
Hoping that someone
Feels as ******
As I do

The truth is
I am sorry

I was young
I didn't know
How to deal
With that kind
Of thing. Turns
Out Cartoon Network
Doesn't really prepare
You for that
Kind of ****

Sometimes I feel
Like I've been
Searching for so
Long that I'm
Not even sure
What I'm looking
For anymore now

The world is full of
wanna-bes and
used-to-bes and
almost-wases.

And the world is crawling with
naysayers and
false speakers and
people who never speak at all.

The world will never run out of
cookie cutters and
fakes and
exact replicas.

But every once in a while,
if you're lucky, really truly lucky
you meet a dream catcher or
a dream weaver or
a dream creator.

And every once in a blue moon,
should all the conditions be right,
you meet someone who is not afraid.

Someone who will hang their feet
over the very edge of this dismal world
look down into the dark expanse
take your hand
close their eyes

and jump.

And that person, my dear,
is you.

Foggy scribblings of last nights misinterpretations
                                                            Scattered chairs

Cotton flesh and torn stitching
                                                  Doggy dandruff

Burnt air, Bic lighters and crooked intentions
                                    Ashes to ashes

Soldiers marching in silence
                       Keep moving

Layabout possessions and broken things
A roof, at least