My life
Is a constant cycle
Of chasing sleep
And getting tripped
The moment I finally
Catch up.

ever since your mother told you not to talk to strangers,
you stopped looking at y o u r s e l f  in the mirror
but if anyone at all were to ask me about you
i'd have to tell them how you love the sun
or how you'd whisper in the morning
allthough you are a bomb to me
you told me once that you swear
you had died with me in an attic fire
in a past life that hurt even more than this
that's when i realized i could scream my name
into your mouth, and hear the echo
coming from your chest
that was the closest i could ever get
to your heart
i'd sleep next to you as
you cuddle with your dreams
while nightmares are fended off
by the better parts of you
the ones that put a pin-sized hole
in your heart every time i
cried for you, and you couldn't
return the favor.
every single morning, you'd wake
and the nightmare would return
it turns out that's what was
holding my hand the whole time
i memorized the words in your eyes
it hurt and i
       suffered and i
                  bled and i  
       cried
but at least i did it
now they rush through my veins
out of my fingers, through this pen
i can't let go of it now

you said it was strange
you thought someone in your body was telling you about what you couldn't remember. it was nice sometimes, and others, not so much. i didn't tell you that it was me. i wanted to stay there. a fraction of someone you used to be. a shaved head, a green jacket, a cheesy smile, a feeling you get when your heart breaks and you think "this is just the beginning."
you told me you're trying to be a better man now. you've been telling me that for a while. i see it, though.
you blamed the pills when you came back to see what state you left me in. not that you ever really left, nothing is ever permanent with you. that's what i love and hate most.
you're a silver tongued devil with one of the biggest hearts i've ever held. you said you felt bad for all of the girls you hurt when you couldn't feel. i asked if you were talking about me. ironically, you said, you weren't.
a while ago, you called me "the best thing since cable **** and beer" and i laughed. last week, you said i had **** eyes. i stopped wearing my make up that way.
last night, i had a dream where you were a preacher at a church, i sat in the front row, but instead of preaching the word of God, you just screamed at me about how sorry you are for all of this.

that night, under the dark midnight sky
I weaved daisies into your hair
and pinned dandelions to the collar of your shirt
left lipstick trails like stars along your jaw
and goose bumps trailing behind my fingertips

and I came home at three a.m
wearing your soft grey jacket
and traces of your cologne on my skin
sleep willingly lost
and innocence willingly traded
for just a taste
of what love truly is

I find comfort in Death
When I look at the Stars

Because I see them suspended in the sky
And think

How I came from those very lights
And one day I'll die and decompose into dirt and nutrients for the soil

Then, millions of
Years later,
Our sun will die too, and turn everything we've ever known
Back into the atoms
That make up those very stars I once viewed

Then I'll be home.

Then I'll be home.

Baucis and Philemon,
Elderly souls, never empty of
Love,
Opened their doors for two strangers,
Whom
Unbeknownst to them, originated from
Above.
Zues and Hermes, cloaked in the robes of the
Poor,
Were turned away from every household,
Until they rapped on Baucis and Philemon's
Door.
"Come in, come in, shed your cloaks, and warm your hands,
Baucis,
Go!
Use our last loaves, grab the roast, the ham!"

Never mind their
Poverty

Never mind their
Nearly empty
Pantry and Cupboards

Baucis and Philemon possessed the rarest trait,
One the God's most
Coveted.
And while the two strangers ate their foods, and consumed their
Wine,
Baucis noted their cups never lowered beneathe the
Brim Line.

"God's... Divine!"
Cried the two elderly
Lovers.
"Follow us up the hill, Baucis, Philemon,
Do not look back as you climb,
Only to each other."

The two followed the Gods, still cloaked in the garb of strangers,
Never looking back at their village
Below.
Until, reaching the top, and turning back, their eyes didn't fall back upon their
Home.

Zues had called forth a flood, sent to destroy the once ungrateful
Village,
But where Baucis and Philemons cottage once lay,
A beautiful temple had risen from the filthy
Sullage.

Their wish to take care of the temple was swiftly
Granted,
As was their second wish, one that was almost
Demanded.


"I must die, as soon as my love does, I can't ever be without her."


The rest of their lives were spent glorifying the Gods for their kindness and love,
And when the time came for them to take their last
Breath,
Squeezed hands and warm souls crossed the River Styx,
And their broken and withered bodies were
Left.

The wrinkles on their
Skin,
Were made brown, and beautiful
Again
As their flesh turned to bark, and their hair to
Leaves,
The two elderly lovers, became intertwining
Trees.

******* and
**** your white knuckles shaped like the hills in Tennessee
And **** your soft lips that dry out in the sun
And **** your tan skin and your heartbeat
And **** your indecisive eyes that can never pick between green or blue
And **** your brown and blonde hair that you NEVER do anything with
And **** your silence
And
**** your smile
And the way the sun hits your teeth
And
*******

...for taking over my head...
I can't get you out.
******* for making me fall in love
With everything you are.

Love is seeing you in the bottom of my coffee,
It's feeling a cigarette burn into my skin,
It's hearing your voice cracking in the branches of my trees,
It's watching the moon turn red in April and not being able to focus on the stars anymore,
It's staring into my drawers, feeling my fingernails scratching the wood looking for change,
Its licking a lit match,
And finding a golden dollar in your backyard under the sandbox,
It's getting in a car crash at 60 mph on a congested highway and never being able to drive again without thinking about hitting a concrete wall,
It's holding your ******* hand and your cold skin and knowing it has nothing but warmth underneath,
And its wanting to die before I hit thirty.
It's burning, it's certain, and it's haunting.
I'll never be without that.