I fell asleep after "Good Morning, Vietnam":

I can feel it all, in your hair.
Under trees.
Flying above the stratosphere.
My arms extended.
The skin burning off my torso-
struggling to breathe,
with a smile on my face.

(Canned laughter)

You're in a living room.
You are me.

I dug into my chest and petted my heart.
Groaning, the blood swam around my hands
and ate it's way up my forearm,
to my elbow,
to my neck,
to my chin,
to my lips.
"I can ******* blood,"
an internal piece of dialogue.

She whispers in your ear,
"I know who you are."
I am you.

I cut my voice on the air, calling out for her.

Why'd you abandon me?
I love you so ******* much.

Why'd you abandon me?
I love you so ******* much.

(Canned laughter)

Why'd you abandon me?
I love you so *******-

You are in my room.
I am you.
We are everything,
and we are nothing.

That's my mirror.
It's shattered.

Hey, there I am on the ground.

There's a brunette, mediocre poet.
It's shattered.

And on my hand are specs of heated sand,
sleeping in my skin-
a glass garden.

How can one find schizophrenic kisses
in a reflection.

(Canned laughter)

I said, "How can one find-"

I tried crushing each memory like a shortening cigarette, but it's easier to allow yourself to die than to forget.

I stood in front of the mirror-the wall behind me scribbled in green-and I watched myself shave the weathered, brunette hairs off my cheeks, chin, lips, and jawline that you found so attractive and wrapped your lips around like a future reunion of, "Hi. I'm sorry for goodbye. I'm glad I met you again before I thought I would die."

And, in my head, I watched you approach my lips with yours.
And, in my head, I took a step back and started to tear up.
You asked me to kiss you, in my head.
And I shook my head, in my head.
You said you were sorry and got help, in my head.
You were better, in my head.
You were healthy, in my head.
But I'm aware some things may only live and die and say goodbye in my head.

I sat on the edge of my bed, no longer in my head, watching "Good Morning, Vietnam", and I remembered where I was when I learned that Robin Williams died. I remembered poking your thigh, in Starbucks, and wondering how long it'd take you to feel my finger or if you'd try to ignore the feeling, like most feelings. Your lips were red and your pants were black and on white, were black cats. And you were afraid to ask for your coffee. And once you sipped on your coffee, you left a red stain and it still appears in my head. And I relive every thing while being dissacioiated with my current life. And every kiss is a red stain in my head. Oh, great, we're back in my head. I guess we never left.

And I remembered when I knew you were dying and leaving and when I knew you had died and left. But I drowned those memories in ***** and suffocated them with smoke, until my body collapsed and until my lungs learned the cursive in every exhale.

In my head.
In my head.
In my head.
In my head.

Here I sit in the dark, watching 80's films. Because thirty years ago, there was no you and there was no me. I imagine it was a simpler time for the both of us.

A time where we never met.
But I'm glad I met you.
A time where we never kissed.
But I'm glad I kissed you.
A time where I didn't say,
"It's okay.
It's okay and it's always going to be okay
because I love you too."

It's not okay. It's not okay. Itsnotokay.itsnotokayitsnotokayitsnotokayitsnotokay

Tomorrow I will wake up, put on a t-shirt, boxers, socks, jeans, worn out Nikes, and a beat up flannel. I'll check my pulse, as I do my vitals, and I'll take my medications. I'll look at my bank account and determine how much money it'll take to forget you and how much more I wish I had so I could help you.

Is there a simpler way of saying I love you, or should I continue writing this album?

Will time ever find the
the time to:

Bless all of the times we needed to say sorry?
Stretch the seconds into minutes
allow us to write that epic novel?
Pause long enough to regain my sleep
I lost on all the Red Carpets?
Bring back the days
of Audrey Hepburn?

Grace Ms. Kelley or achieve
the illusive dreams we seek.

Or give me the time
to watch the eleven ******
I downloaded,
last night.

Sitting in the dark
The Universe descends into oblivion
The only reality is us
The only truth is this very moment
In all its honesty
Filled with both longing and love
No thought but to be blanketed in each others electricity
Perhaps a hint of perfection
Or what feels enchanted
If things were different
If the Universe still existed
If reality was this,
Two hearts in desperate need
Finding what they weren't even looking for
If an honest heart meant an honest life
If this moment was everything
Then...

                    happines does exist

Oh, she’s a killer
A knife-shaped *****
She’ll rip through your guts
In the rain-stained
Metro station
Down-town east-end
Blood spills on the bathroom floor
And she just smiles
Beautiful
And familiar
Walking along
Coffee in hand
Going to work
When she hits you fast
Black arrow to the eye-brow without warning
Stamped in the carpet
Cigarette-**** burned and bruised
And just when you thought you could be ok
**** you, Nostalgia!
You know just how to play me
Just where to slice me
All the right words
At all the wrong times
I’m a sucker for your curved blade
I wear your scars and curse your name
Nostalgia
**** me quietly
I am always, only, ever yours.