All my life I've chased happiness through herbs and manufactured substances.

Occasionally the touch of a womanly body would spark life in my heart.

And six months ago to the day I asked you to be mine and you gladly accepted.

I got clean (I used by choice and not habit, I can honestly say) and I loved with all my heart but not all my mind.

I am not a body, I have one.
I do not have a soul, I am one.

And I'm thankful I continue to collide with you, no matter how seemingly hard I try to ***** it up. I swear, I've only ever tried to bring you happiness and you have no reason to believe me but I'm happy down to the very core of my being that you do. That you're trying to.
And that you return my love tenfold.

I am consistently amazed with my ability to hurt.
The ones I hurt are the ones I hold dearest.
The ones I hurt don't deserve it.

My hands are rough and scarred, they are flawed.
My hands can create and they can ****.
My hands have created and they have loved and they have taken what doesn't belong to them and hurt those who trust them most. And they are controlled by my mind.

There is a clock resting above a fireplace that hasn't seen a fire in twenty years.
It is fifteen minutes slow and it has been for quite some time.
I used to take it off the mantle and manipulate the dials so as to allow it to correctly display the time.
And my mother would turn it back again.
I never understood the reasons for this,
and I still don't.
And god ******, this clock has no significance and this metaphor slipped my mind as soon as I thought of it and I can't think of enough ways to say I'm sorry.

Mistakes are something we are forced to live with.
More so than scars or badges of honor.

And that's a good thing. As long as we live with our mistakes, we won't repeat them.

But does that matter to those trespassed against? To those the mistakes were committed unto? No. And it shouldn't, the mistake is what matters. And the one in the wrong isn't the only one forced to live with.

Mistakes often come about from selfishness, and selfishness serves no one, abides by no biddings.
As it shouldn't.

Forgiveness is a hard fought battle for humans. Forgiveness for yourself, lovers, friends and enemies. They're all hard to come by and must be striven for.

The ache that's been lingering between my eyeballs the past twenty four hours is constant and stabbing. That's where I'm keeping my mistakes. Somewhere that will never be out of site or mind.
This mistake is large and so my whole body aches. No, reader, don't say you're sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for and I deserve the pain I feel. I deserve the back of my eyelids swimming with images and my ear drums ringing with a single sentence and I want to apologize every time i hear those words. Those words are for you and for me and I will keep them and they will make my body stimulated and tense until I have forgiven myself.  
I don't want to forgive myself. I don't deserve it, just as you didn't deserve to be the receiver of my mistakes.

I promised myself I wouldn't write this.
My will power is week and
I don't know, I have a thousand more things to say but they only matter to me and so I shall keep them.
I hope for three things;
The first: you're happiness and well being
The second: you're friendship.
The third is selfish and so I shall keep it to myself.

I can be alone.
I spent two years perfecting the art,
and I may spend some time practicing it.

I just hope someday the phone will ring,
and that the caller is happy and healthy
and whole.

I think of her body,
of her curves
and curls
and I blow a line as long as my finger to think of something else.
Anything else.

I think of Freud and how wrong he was,
I think of Clapton and his false credit,
I think of the ringing in my ears and how I wish it would stop,
anything but her hips and her blonde hair and her fat ***.

Help, I've fallen and I can't get up,
and god, it was hard enough to stand up the first time.

as i try and craft my speech i stumble
as it comes out of my mouth i mumble
i fear rejection for i do not think very highly of my self
relatively humble.
oh how nice it'd be to get this girl to smile and fall and tumble
in love. her curly hair
id adore her blue eyes and say i never stop admiring.
hair so pretty,i mean beautiful
prettiful