Sand and glass, glass and sand
In my face, in my hand
Sculpting me as I demand
Sand and glass, glass and sand

Sand and glass, glass and sand
Dancing with me, feeling grand
Ace of spades and a big brass band
Sand and glass, glass and sand

Sand and glass, glass and sand
Crushed beneath my soggy feet
Tip-toe gently, what a treat
Biting more than you can eat
Thought that she was oh so sweet
Never mind, I can't be beat
Here, the bodies hit the street
As I cut them down like wheat
Sand and glass, glass and sand

Sand and glass, glass and sand
In my face, in my hand
Sculpting me as I demand
(just a dream, it wasn't real
wasn't true, how can I feel
a beating, rushing, flutter-pulse
my mind and heart as one convulse
cannot stop the great illusion
leading me into confusion
what is real what is fake
have I made a grave mistake?
cannot be, it mustn't be
bring forth my reality)

Sand and glass, glass and sand
Falling from my bleeding hand
No more follows my command
Sand and glass, glass and sand

Let it be, said I in whisper
Pulling back as though I'd kissed her
Let it be, I said again
Oh, how I longed for a "more than" friend
I wanted her to love me too
And in a tiny flash, I thought of you
How you had made me fall in love
I had trusted you; you were my dove
You didn't let me down at once
But in the end, I was the dunce
The incompatible? That was me
And so I whispered, Let it be

Second Best is hard to be
Second Best is lame
Second Best has come to be
My other middle name

You scored my heart with your fire and flames
They lapped at the muscle inscribing their names:
Beauty and Intellect, so **** and smart
Warping my mind like contemporary art
You know all the words that make me clench fists
You tease and you promise and handcuff my wrists
I smile when I see you and frown when you leave
And you leave me wanting so much to believe
That I'm not just a fling, just another guy
A portable shoulder for tears when you cry
I've been there before, and it's happening still
If you want me to do that, then I certainly will
But when you whisper so sweetly those things in the night
Sighing my name, saying, "This is so right"
I can't help but think that it means so much more
Than a shoulder to help your eyes even the score

Wish I were a satellite
To send my cares away
Spot them as I’m coming down
And vanish with the day

Wish I were a lightning storm
With color, light, and cloud
Silently define the night
Or shout my presence loud

Wish I were a butterfly
Caught in a hurricane
Ripped apart with regal force
Accentuating pain

Wish I were a grain of sand
By ocean, lake, or bay
Caught within a gentle wave
And slowly float away

When you're young, you have no care in the world.
You run wild and free.
Your parents would say "Always be yourself."
You think, "How could I be anyone else?"
Then you grow up and see, sometimes it's hard to be yourself,
in a world where people are pretending all the time.
Pretending to be someone that they're not, just to fit in.
Then suddenly, you change the way you dress, the people who hang out with.
They tell you to lose weight, and they told you the quickest way to do this.
You find yourself sitting on the bathroom floor, crying. Thinking to yourself:
*Who am I?

Sometimes tears are beautiful
As they wave hello
To a smile
As they trickle down
Your cheeks

But sometimes tears are ugly
As they sneer
At the blood
That trickles down
Your arms

I write for the average person
I write for the people who I connect with
I write for the lost souls of every day life
I write for the people who have nothing to show for their age
Except for scars
Broken hearts and gray hairs
The people that have worked hard for every paycheck in their entire lives
Who scrounge up change from under the driver side seat of their car just to buy a pack of cigarettes
The people who only go out on Saturday night because Friday was payday and that's all they can afford

I write this because right now I don't have enough money to keep smoking like I want to
To start driving the car that I want to
To pay back all the money that I owe
Or to really do anything outside of sitting and being stuck in my own head
And I know a lot of you are like me
Too much thinking can be a very bad thing
I'm not saying it leads to bad thoughts
Like suicide or robbing a bank or stealing a car or anything like that
It's bad because if people like me starting thinking too much we can never stop
And if we never stop thinking we can never sleep
If we never sleep then we never stop this ongoing snowball effect that we call our thoughts
But eventually we sleep

And when the sun raises in the morning all we want to do is cover our face with the blanket
And go back to playing poker on the moon with all of our hero's
But instead of this dream we have to wake up
nine to five
nine to five
Every day for five days a week
Fifty two weeks a year
For at least sixty-five years out of our lives
Back to the grind

I write this
For the hopeless romantics
For the young generations that can barely understand my words
I write this
Sitting alone in my bedroom waiting for the day my voice is heard
I write this
And ill keep on writing til my hands decide they don't wanna hold a pen anymore

I need you to fill my hollow bones
I want to curl up with you on a rainy day
So neither of us will have to cry alone
And neither of us will be out in the cold

I need this so I may build a ribcage
Around a heart that actually beats
We can rebuild our skeletons together
So we can finally stand on our own, but not alone

I need a mouth to wrap around mine
To taste the words I can't bring myself to speak
And I won't mind if your lips are rough from screaming
As long as your lips will echo me

I need you so that my heart doesn't fade from lack of use
But I have my own storm clouds too
So I need you to need me back
To need someone just as broken as you

The moon haunted the room through its raw voyeuristic glow.
As she wrapped her bare legs around his frail torso she spoke at a tone that tickled his neck. The only thing he could keep in his failing body that day was a humble cup of yogurt. Minutes bled into hours that she rubbed his cold shoulders. They laid naked together with tubes in his veins. 

 The air in the room held the familiar  scent of a summer night. This night was a good one. No blankets damp with tears, or shallow breaths that punctuate eloquent apologies. Only the two meandering through distant memories. He closed his aching eyes and rested his head in her lap. 

Vertigo took hold of her as she looked down upon him. He was an asphalt flower trying to break free. He spent his days using a meager palette of activity.  Staring at the hospital ceiling he inconsolably searched for a crack. For hours he laid still, violently thinking. 

Then, beyond the shadow of doubt came the orchestration of happiness. Dopamine hit a  crescendo  at the cue of eureka.
 
He outwitted death. 
He realised he could succeed eternal rest by living forever in her. 
The simple loophole of death:
 love.