I'm good enough for the best
If I repeat that to myself hundreds of tines over I might believe it
Going to war with insanity
Is a common occurrence in my world
You don't want to land a Shuttle on mine
You'll be perplexed as I am
Not a good combination

A man and wife go to lunch.
Premium burgers, shakes and fries.
It's cheap and he can wear his sweatpants.
For every one couple,
there's twenty single fathers
with his children.
(a depressing ratio)
It must be custody weekend.
At the Heartbreak Hotel
tables for two occupy singles.
The men picked out their best shirts
and the women painted their lips.
Looking only for a conversation,
they leave with a bill
priced with another Sunday
of shattered hope.

The town still drips
with last nights alcohol consumption,
effervescent with AWOL brain cells.
Romance viewed from the inside of a glass,
vanished in its absence.
Neon bar signs became the stargazing
of the twenty-first century
and hangovers a fast burning cigarette,
leaving romance to pile
in a duotone of grey
in the ashtray of our heartless society.

You, me and my melancholy.
And nobody fxcks harder than her.

I’ve heard, “stay away from people
who make you feel you are hard to love”.

I tell myself that, bringing to light the
things you did to make me feel that way.
It’s almost like I never knew you,
and I don’t know if I’m okay with that.
It was hard for me to write for you,
but now that you’re gone it comes so easily.

You asked me why I didn’t spill my guts
on pages for you,

and I have to ask myself
the same question. I’ve questioned everything
that has happened in the past year.
I tried to pick up the pieces, make it whole,
but it failed. What was I supposed to do?

I don’t love you anymore.

My soul is restless
She longs to part with my body
To be rid of the darkness that shackles her
This skin is not my own
Only the scars are familiar to me
Sometimes I wonder if I’m human
Or am I a melody
A lullaby softly sang to a sleeping child
Escaping maternal lips
A whisper of light through the branches
Of dying trees
There is poison in the air here
I can’t breathe
There is so much hate in the hearts of men
And it breaks me
Let me reach out to you
Feel every part of your existence
I’ll tremble in the vastness of your soul
Let me breathe in your air
It isn’t toxic
You are as much a part of this earth
As the dirt and the trees
When you cry, is it a rainstorm?
As you shake with fury, are you an erupting volcano?
Under the surface
There is a whole world inside of you
This planet is dying
Let me explore the one you hold in your heart
Please don’t be afraid of me corrupting it

What do I feel?

Sometimes I feel like a song
Sometimes a beautiful song, other times an overwhelming wreck of a song

Sometimes I feel superiority to others
Sometimes I feel lower than dirt

Sometimes I'm mellow and monotonous
Sometimes I'm hyper and anxious and paranoid

Sometimes I'm devious, callous, and shallow
Other times I'm sensitive, over dramatic, and emotional

Sometimes I feel none of these, sometimes all.
So when the question is asked, "How do you feel?"

All I can say is:
Nothing. Or . Everything.

It seems fictitious, but it is indeed real.

your promises meant nothing to you,

but i let them mean everything to me.

& now you're gone

away with my heart,

leaving behind chaos
                           confusion

                           & leaving me behind

now nothing more than a shell

of the human i once used to be