I don't believe in God
But if I killed myself
Do you think I could still get into Heaven?

I never harmed anybody
I never did a thing
You called me a saint once
Said that I saved you

I am already stuck in Limbo
But if I killed myself
Would it still be a sin?

I ****** a ******* Valentine's night
She asked me to put on my favorite song.

I played something called “Leave Before The Lights Come On”

She asked if I would leave in the morning
I told her I would still be there.

I told her I loved her as I fell asleep.

She was gone when I woke up.

Dirt trail to the left of the parking lot
An area of cars sitting while their owners visit the dead at the cemetery to the right
Dusk is upon us as the parking lot is empty
We hop a small fence and walk that trail
Over brambles of spiny plants just as dead as the bodies behind us
Amidst all of that I find a single sunflower stalk with its flower as bright as day
I cut it down and take it with me

I found a carnation placed so gently on the lid of my recycling bin
How could I resist not taking it
It belonged to no one
Left out in the cold to slowly wither
I picked it up and brought it into my home
It sits on my dining room table in a glass coke bottle
How fitting that such a flower found in the trash be held in trash.

Sitting alone at a coffee shop at 10pm when you have nothing else to do is an awfully boring thing. All you do is order a coffee that's too hot to drink right away and just let it sit for awhile untouched. All you do is chain smoke your brand new pack of cigarettes you bought with the lighter you had to walk back to the store to buy because you thought you already had one. You don't even know how long is worth staying there, till you finish your drink? Till you run out of smokes? Or until it closes?
Sitting alone at a coffee shop at 10pm when you have nothing else to do is awful, especially when you realized you finished writing this at 9:58.

This alcohol fueled rampage of both love and hate kills me inside
It’s like no matter what I do I always end here
A drunken stupor of thought both good and bad
Usually just bad
Regardless of what I do I always end here
I can try to change my ways
I have in fact
But I still ended here
On my knees, on my side, curled into a ball;
A sobbing mess
A sobbing mess whose happiness could be temporarily found at the bottom of a bottle
But as I throw that bottle against the wall, shattering its exterior as my interior has as well
I wallow in my own self pity.

Can’t I just run away?
Run away to you
Hide in your room
Either under your covers or the piles of clothing you leave everywhere

Can’t I just run away?
Be with you
Among the mess and clutter you call home

We could just sit and talk
Or I could hold you

We could create our own reality
One in which we live in the war zone of our love
Fighting everyone else as they are our enemy, trying to keep us apart