I still smell like you
And your Irish springs body wash
At 5:03
On a Sunday morning

1721

He was my host—he was my guest,
I never to this day
If I invited him could tell,
Or he invited me.

So infinite our *******
So intimate, indeed,
Analysis as capsule seemed
To keeper of the seed.

Maybe I'm looking too hard.
Looking too hard for love.
Maybe I'm thinking too much.
Thinking too much about what to do
And how to find you.
Maybe I'm looking too hard for what's infront of me.
Looking too hard for this.

When I look in the mirror,
It’s not what you’d think.
What I see is the Monster in me.

The Monster in me,
Waiting to come out.
Screaming, “Set me free! Set me free!”

You’ll never know when you look at me
I’m trying to contain the beast.
Rattle the cage, pick the lock, “Set me free! Set me free!”

Not some kind of Jekyll and Hyde
More than a masquerade.
Happy on the outside, raging on the inside.

Beating on the doors of my heart.
Don’t anger me, I’ll set free
The Monster in me.

“Just let me out”
“It won’t hurt”
“Set me free! Set me free!”

Will I forever carry this sadness with me?
Will it forever stream through my veins?
Will the sadness die the day I die,
Or will it continue on even then?

I exhale the sadness
And watch
As it slowly makes its way back
To be inhaled once more.

It’s in my lungs
It’s in my brain
It’s in my heart
It’s in my veins

Creeping up from my fingertips
Spiraling around my arms
Melting into my skin

After all this time
(it’s been so long)
it is now a part of me
as death is a part of life
and night is a part of day.

The fiery heat your touch gives off when our bodies meet.
Never in my life did I think I’d find you.
Sweet separation from the rest of the earth.
I love you, I’ll say it again and again.
When I stare into your eyes, I am content.
Not a care is to be given
About other men
Since I found you
My heart is made whole again.
All I need is you and your touch
Your body and soul is more than enough.

Alexander
Crooked and darkened by the plague of modern intelligence, Alexander wanders down the familiar streets of their town with a compelling yet distant look nested upon his brow.  Disillusionment had radicalized him long ago and reduced most of his friends to acquaintances, and family to strangers.  Little did he realize that he had annexed himself from happiness when he spent every moment thinking of love and success.  So much so, that he had created standard by which these experiences could be logically sound, stable, and reliable.  If any of the key factors were missing, he dismissed his emotions as if they were late to class and continued about the mania of loneliness.




@A.Zahorcak2014

an object at rest
tends to be the same speed
and the same direction
lacking connection

to petty holidays
where ya act like you'll change your ways
you won't

throw on that record,
grab those sticks
it is time to hit some ****