For she loves me not for who
I used to be or who I was before,
but for who I am now and what
she knows I'll be in the days to come.

He was not alone.
The moon and the stars were there.
He could not see them.

I've forgotten what it was like
to have someone there for you
when you needed them.
I've gotten so used to being my
only friend
that I can't recognize the
kindness in another person.

I've become bitter toward
the human race
for leaving me alone in a time when I needed
someone the most.

I felt as if I was a drifting wood,
floating amidst the blue seas.

Endless.
I found no other drifters.

Endless.
I found a horizon that I could not reach.

Here I am,
a floating soul with
a neverending ocean of solitude.
I am my own friend
and I feel like I'm losing me too.

I'd like to tell you a story,
     a story about a girl,
a story about a boy.
But while I tell you this story,
                                  I want you to listen.
Listen to the sounds around you,
                    listen to the cars driving by,
     listen to the planes roaring in the sky.
Most of all, listen to yourself.
Your rhythmic breathing,
           inhale


                                exhale.

            Inhale


                                   exhale.


Listen to your heart as it
thumps
  
      thump
          thump
                
                   thumps
in your flesh covered chest.

Tell yourself you are real.
You are alive.
Your story is more important than the one of this boy and girl,
because their story doesn't exist.
Your story does.

So feel alive.

Yes
I will turn on the music
turn on the vibrations and
listen to the rhythmic
beats in the background
while drinking red tonic in a
broken glass;
but at the end of the night,
I will force myself into unconsciousness
and depend on the blackness of shut eyelids
to get me through to the next day.

White washed wood
with a whistling rush of wind.
Where rounds of woodchuck beer
past the rustling of chips and laughter.

Empty bottles, elaborated clinks.
Even every inch of eager filled smiles
covers the thoughts of enamored hearts;
Entrusted with faults and sorry's to be accepted.

Are the ancient artifacts,
again the reason we think that trust is best?
A beer is best passed along with time.
Here's the drink, calm down please.

Resting in reverie,
is this really what we pretend it to be?
Requesting solace from a drink and company?
Ritually wrought instincts and partially rellished revelations.

You'd never understand if it wasn't for being young.
Yearning for years and solemnly sought
yells and whispers.

Please, I'm tired, hand me another beer.

Because I've this urgency
to kiss you on your trembling lips.
I've this energy
to hold you with my tightest grip.

I carry an overwhelming
desire to smile when I see you.
It's inexplicable with it's overpowering.
I need your heart when you need it too.

Your kindness kills.
And your eyes,
like a poison pill,
an icy blue disguise.

The ink upon,
your freckled skin,
a way you bear on
your actual sin.

I can't help but feel your presence,
for you are omnipresent.
Here and there and of course;
You're everything I yearned for.



You ask me, Why?
Well, I don't really know.

I've a deep thirst
for the blood in your veins.
A craving to kiss the flesh upon your ossein.
My heart aches for an answer
from the heaves of your breastbone.

Up
and
        down.

Up
and  
         down.

You inhale,
my breathing stops.
You exhale,
my heart throbs.

My thirst is unquenchable for
your answer remains a mystery.

He has my words,
I am a blank page.
He will rewrite me.

Our hearts are broken and I swear I can feel the pain.
It climbs down my rib cage like the roots of a tree,
my nerves grab the Earth,
pushing their way through the dirt, hoping
for peace;
a break from this aching.

Something better will come along.

Why is it,
           every time I see you,
                       you turn

your head
            the other way?

Give me something I'm going to remember,
be it raw and unrehearsed.
Give me something intangible
that my only my heart can see and touch.

I don't care whatever it may be just give me something to feel.
I need something to feel.
Let my heart burst!
Let my mind go free!
Just give me something.
I beg of you, be raw.
get down to the nitty gritty,
be true,
be honest.

Give me something to remember.

I don't know where I belong.
Here,
there,
or nowhere?

Give me love,
                           or give me life.
For neither is the same.

It's that bad again.
I want to slam my head against a brick wall and watch
the blood trickle down my uneven skin.
Hopeless
Restless
I know it all too well.
I just want to be.
But I won't let myself.

It's all my fault. It always is.

I want to watch the deep red liquid fall aimlessly down my
uneven skin.
I want to feel something.
I want to feel pain.
I want to hurt.
Why do I always have to feel helpless?
Worthless.
I'm stupid to think anyone would ever want me.
I don't even want me.

I'm a perfectionist but I'm so far from perfect.
It's that bad again.
I don't want to see scars on my body.
I want to slam my ignorant brain into a wall.
There's the anger I always feel.

Release it.
I want to release it.
I don't want to be angry anymore.
I'm too bitter.
I don't want to be bitter.

"To hell with the day," she said.
For the sun hides the stars, the moon, and the dark.
Why must we run from the night?
That's when we can be most alive!
Shimmering stars are our party lights,
we mourn the moon but it gets lonely, too.
I see more demons during the day.
To hell with the sun.
I'll be friends with the night.

Your fingertips,
the gentle brush against my skin,
the trembling it caused,
frightened me.
So new was this experience,
the overwhelming flood of emotions and
happiness.
You elated me.
You were lovely.
So lovely.

I could not handle your fingertips,
as they brushed against my trembling skin.
Every motion you made with your fingertips
I could read as if you were writing a book upon
my flesh.
I was a blank page,
and you were the pen.
Your fingertips,
pouring ink all over this new found feeling.

I wish you would never stop writing.

Rain is rain.
There's no other way to explain
the sound it makes as it hits
the Earth.
         It's the soft, sad sound of
            seconds,
                     slowly
                            slowly
                                  slipping away.
Time has gone away in the moments
it
takes
for the ground
to
        drown

like bodies and their sorrows,
a soul and it's pain.
Hopelessly flailing
     frantically wailing
            drowning in emotions
             that mean to spite you.
If only you realized that the
drowning, choking, spitting;
was meant to cleanse you're broken
soul,
not **** it.

I've lost what it's like to live,
Well really, I never had it.
I've become bored with living;
There's not much to look forward to.
Stuck in the daily rotation, I sleep
Eat
Drink
Talk
Work.
One of these days I will sit
In silence.
For sake of hearing what the world has to say.
I'm sure it will whisper to me
'There are far better things to come.'
I just have to make them happen.

Fall-
       ing,
snow,

down to Earth.

Ice and white;
Ice and black;
          Reckless

           Watch your back.