You frown at the way I can drink whiskey without flinching. and every time I tell you. honey. I don't drink alcohol for the taste. If I did. I would have the taste of your smile down my throat every night. I would have every memory of us bottled. And I would drink them whenever you were gone. Which lately is a lot. so lately I drink more. the warmth of the whiskey when it hits my insides reminds of the first couple months with you. When you were sure. When we were good. When I was enough. Now I can't drink enough. Now we don't talk enough. Now is different. The only time I feel you. The real you. Is with my clothes on the floor. You get your fix. I'll get mine. I'll **** the stress out of you. And I'll drink the sadness out of me. The sadness you fill me with with how empty you leave me. I'm addicted to this whiskey. And to the way your hands grip my throat.

You are like shards
Of broken glass
That I am still picking out of my skin.

Everytime I think you're gone,
I shift a little
And feel more pieces of you
Working their way in.

Whether it will happen or not,
Choose your attitude wisely.
Like the flower that saw grey clouds
Hovering above, swept in by thirst.
Yet went through the day without a drop.
An inch she grew, without a slant.
Her petals glistening with glee.
Sparing her last for the company of bees.
That night she payed homage
To the soil that fed her roots,
The trees that broke the wind
And the hills that braved the storm.
"Best you play your part," said the moon to the flower,
"And leave the rest to the circle of life."

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.