Here’s to twelve years
To all the regrets and fears
To all the cemetery drives
And the wars we've survived

To all the kids from yesterday
To all those who wait and pray
What’s the worst that I can say?
I can take it but I’m not okay

To all the early sunsets on Monroeville
To all the heartaches that we feel
To all the boys and girls who sing
Make a toast and kiss the ring

You may be gone but your shadow lives on
It’s hard but we all carry on
Together this army marches
Dust to dust and ashes to ashes

This world is ugly without you
But we’ll keep it beautiful and true
This parade shall go on for many summer years
Through bullets, danger days, weapons and Three cheers

This army shall march on without you
We won’t ever say adieu
Keep your gun close, don’t fall through
Look alive, sunshine
May death never stop you

Dear You,

It was March 22, 2013. It was a cold, wet day and I decided that rather that risk frostbite I would go online, maybe go on twitter, check some stuff, little did I know this was the day you would tell me it was all over, that after 12 years. 12 YEARS. That is 144 months, 4383 days, and a **** ton of hours and minutes. That there would be 1 paragraph, 6 ******* sentences telling me it was all over, you were leaving me to fend for my self in this dark cruel world.

You said that you were just a concept, an idea, I was strong enough to carry on without you,... Well I call *******!

Cause you were there for me when no one else was, you got me, you understood how much society freaking ***** and you kept me strong.

Maybe I do scare the living **** out of you, maybe you just stopped caring...

You tell me to “look alive, sunshine” But how can I look alive when you leaving left me so dead inside?

Yet, I still hold on to the hope that some day you will come back to join us in the black parade, and lead this army of killjoys.

Until then, however, I am not okay (I promise)

There's something missing in this heap of hearts.
i'd happily admit he'd fall apart
without his special taste of what was to come
after every horror night he'd slept,
beauty truthful, I wish i'd seen
his glory days, our glory days
we breathe as one, and there's music to come -
but an unstrung guitar would yearn for it.
Something like diamonds or vague metaphors
like years of friends and friendly enemies that struck a bone like a tattooed hand a chord
something like that which fills the soul of rueful smiles and before they left -
he knew that was where he took his breath.
One day I'll come to understand why deprivation is my vice and virtue
and why good things come to those who forget -
but for now its grief for ghosts and phantom hands left unheld
that keeps us both waking during the night.

So you want to know
what death looks like...
It looks like her,
Make-up done perfectly
Red lips that could ****
Nails black as dusk
Heels sharp as knives.

Death.
Looks like her eyes
Captivating.
Stunning. *Yet lifeless.

If guilt and mistakes are at stake
And you're stuck in a rut that's deep with door closed shut
I urge you to break open windows and take, take what you know
And put it in a skill
Use your strength and your will
For only you, this soil, can till
I want you to walk boardwalks and talk to crowds
Convey your heart and speak out loud
To draw and write the things you feel
For though it is not original, or perhaps good enough to show others
You've given yourself something that is real

If the past clings to your ankles and you can't shake it's shackles
Take the rings of iron bound to your feet and break the bindings
The past will not last in your mind anyhow and how you know that you're free
Is when you are able to stand and accept life's steep, and harsh fee
And move and go and know and live and be happy, regardless of it's toll
And if you can do this than you have done more than all the rest who feel best
And you have beaten the ultimate test
For happiness comes sparingly in short bursts
And if you're simply warily comparing the outcomes of actions
Then you are not alive, and the beauty will pass you by
and the chance for happiness will digress and leave you alone

If you can hear then you listen to songs, and words
the footsteps the heartbeats, the wind in the tree's and it's birds

If you can see then you look at the art on the walls that apart from yourself
Can still bring to you some beauty in heart
You look at the bridges in Vermont that in the orange flush fall
Paint the world their colors as they fall from tree's that stand tall

And you like that tree should stand in the wind and not bend to the fate
For when you move with the wind you'll find that happiness does not wait

So as you stare from the window in the stone house you have built
As the flowers you brought from outside are gone, or start to wilt
And you see the sunshine line the paths that you know you should walk
And the people who stand in bands with whom you know you should talk
I hope that the cold of the stone which for years you have known
Serves reminder to find the courage to walk through the door which you abhor
And find the life and light and peace that I know the world for you, has in store.

She…

Is...


Constantly searching for answers. Constantly questioning surroundings…..places…things.

Always curious.

Always distracted.

Mind bobbling and rattling with ideas. Ideas that come and go. But ones that never really stick.

She desires attention.

She’s not sure what kind. Just any kind.

She reaches out to people for validation of herself without knowing. For comfort.

Beautiful.

Wandering, sparkling brown eyes. Full lips. Bright smile. Lights up her face.

Upbeat.

In small ways and big ways.

Talented.

That’s scattered in different things. Poetic in certain emotions that are expressed.

Anxious.

For everything. Anything.

Aching for change. But changing nothing.

Excitement.

She shows. She likes.

Naive.

Her eyes light up to new things. Growing more curious. Unaware of consequences.

Unknown.
To others. Herself.

Stuck.

In her mind. In her expectations. In her demons. In her betrayal. In her regret.

She.

Is……

Yearning.

For self assurance. Accomplishments.

Guidance.

I…
Want to…


Show her realization. Reality. Art.

Beauty.

In herself. In her talent. In her aspirations.

Patience.

In her skills. In her growth. With her mind. With her future.

Peace.

Within herself. With her past. With her doubts.

Show her that….


She…
Is….

A Diamond in the Rough.

That she has to fall down. To get back up.

To brush herself off. To want to keep going.

On one path at a time…with one foot at a time.

To stop running.

In her mind. With her thoughts. With her feelings. With her analysis of herself.


That it is ok…

to move slow. To take her time. To perfect her craft. With one desire at a time.

She…

Is…

A work of Art that requires time.


She….

is….

Beautiful.