I wish you would get deported .
I curse the east European country that produced such a fine specimen of god like features
Coupled with a Zeus complex .
And all the series of unfortunate events that lead you too my small town eyes .
My guts haven't unraveled for days and I have forgotten what eating for enjoyment is as it all turns to ashes in my mouth .
Grief is a my white knuckled steering wheel , uncontrolled sobbing in traffic .
It is "our" dog barking at me to remember to breathe .
It is my mothers kisses on my hands because I cannot turn my head to meet her blue eyes cause they are the same color of yours .
For every cigarette I light I hope you light two
Because I'm drinking this poison but trying to **** you.

I can still feel hands upon my body. I miss them and I shouldn't, but their touch sends shock waves through my spine and I can't think of anything.. not even the time. Why do I miss those hands? They brought nothing but pain, yet I still reminisce and remember the shame. Can't help but feel like I belong in a mental institution when I think of your hands upon me could be the only solution. It's been years and it feels like yesterday when your fingerprints were imprinted on my thighs. I can still feel the burning in my brain from your piercing blue eyes. I don't know why I feel this way and I try to end it before it even begins, but biding my time does nothing when you're in this ****** up head of mine.

It's 1 am and I'm calling you .
Hating that ***** at the end of the line reciting " the person you have reached ..."
Is never available right now.
I feel so alone gripping the phone ,
I can't call you so late anymore .
Wanting to burn into you that
You are mine .
And everyone who touched you before is a ******* lie .
Across the street ,
The town .
The states .
I hate all of them right now .
And I know that this is
irrational
But it ***** that you were the first for me and I wasn't for you .
The abuser ,
The space filler ,
Now the Grecian pillar .
Hating classical way that
The years rubbed off the emotion from the chisel marks .
**** them
And you're like before my hands , and mouth and eyes .
My eyes ....
Always searching for yours .
In an empty room of the two of us still ******* searching for yours .

But maybe I am the first ,
And that's why I a prototype
Am still here . ™

Haven't had a dream about you in a long time. You still haven't changed. Maybe a little more mature. Your ****** structure is more prominent, but you still haven't changed. Your voice and mannerisms remain the same. Those ******* piercing blue eyes that could burn a hole through my brain. I felt it all. I felt you there. I felt the warmth of your breath with every word you spoke. You were even wearing the shirt my mom got you for Christmas. It was all there and it was all the same. You were looking for something, but couldn't find it. When you first walked in and shot those blue eyes my way, I collapsed. But I didn't cry and I didn't get angry. It was almost like a relief. I haven't seen you in so long, I guess it was a reminder that you were still lingering around in my head and memories. I don't think about you as much, but when I do it doesn't hurt anymore. It's just there. A faint memory. I woke up from that dream and I swear the room was blue. I was looking for you and halfway expected to see you, but I went back to sleep. I didn't dream of you again, but I could still feel you. I wish it would stop.

I saw red today.
Anger consumed every sensation of my being.
Burned holes in my head, left scars in my heart.
I tried to swallow that **** down, but the demon inside spit it back up
and laughed in my face. Pushed me back down, said stay in your place.
I decided not to fight it, figured it'd be best to make friends with the demon that burns.
Guess there's always a means to an end.

So the demon made himself at home and has since then grown and grown
And every time I see red,
no one dares to push me further and I don't blame them one bit.
I'd hate for my demon to show his devilish grin.