The road behind bares us a backdrop, too many nights find us fractured in our thoughts and the dreamers we once were are far from the two people who stand today.

We're broken, mere splinters of our shipwreck past, driftwood on a shore that drowns every time the ocean breathes.
The path is littered with slaughtered dreams that didn't bleed.

As time and tide wait for no man shall we find it a tragic scene?
simply erased with the sunsets demise?
No one gets away without a scar and mine speak a road map to chaos
and a found hello to you.

Mine own scars are fingertips
gouged into the sand and faded
but salted by tears of the ocean, inerasable by the tide.
A soul washed up upon the shore, a road map etched delicately into fine bones.
You can trace where I'd been before. All roads lead to your hello.

In broken lines and have uttered phrases and one too many empty night.
Backdrop of chaos does paint in the darkest colors you could ever imagine .

How does it gets so flawed by our own creations and vices my dear?
Does it still ring ever so true?

The bell rings true whispering distant voices
Empty nights are just bottles lined up as dead soldiers
We contemplated our own truths and fell victim to our own vices
The backdrop is black, no colour beneath skin.
Honestly? Where does our downfall begin?

Two ships underneath the nightscape past the spark once understood the flame and nothing more .
In empty alleys, like cats to prowl, we find our moments, and then bury our thoughts to lay for no others to see.

half written papers and half heard conversation the keys of the piano haunt the silence as myself shadows that still remain.

Nothing is but a thought and those are like dead flowers laid to waste a reflection of far better times

The night crawls to meet the day as it has so many times before.

The thought of the minds bottle lay empty upon the table.
A fond farewell is but a sugar coated goodbye.
And I seldom have minced my words to mask their sting.

The page forever bleeds.

Pages that lay scattered on a ***** floor
Bleeding ink into cracks
that will forever more
hide the spirit of our souls.

She said .
"It's me or the bottle *******"!

I admired the view of  the door as it smacked her on the *** .
She hit the road and me I simply hit the bar .

Played some songs on the jukebox and didn't say a word to the folks around me .

Drank till I passed out and realized the **** storm I was in the very next morning .

She was gone and I was left here alone.

Without wheels and only a lone beer in the fridge .

Well no one ever claimed I was smart .

I wonder if she could turn round somewhere in Kentucky .
Pick me up a bottle then bring that pretty little *** back meet with a smile at the door.

Run into these open arms .

Embrace those lips and face those tears .


Then sit her down hand her the money and take my bottle and
tell her thanks before I slam the door in her face .

Whiskey heals all wounds .

And as for you my dear have a safe trip .

Sincerely


John

Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.

He pinned her up
against the wall
making sure
She wouldn't  fall
She held on tight
to her wishes
and her scream
all the while
hoping
it wasn't a dream
He carried her
to the counter top
and whispered to her
I can not stop
I never want to stop
I will never be done
with my only one
She inhales his kisses
and his sighs
She feeds her desires
into his eyes
She lays pinned
upon a counter top
and breathes into him
*I hope you never stop

The bottle and old thoughts haunt me all the same
In whispers of what was and should never be did we lose our way
or just vanish as quickly as the night before the day?

So many times I thought of lines
now simply I cast shadows where the blank spaces do reside.
Tomorrow cannot promise so why should I?
Let the words hold there own where I never could .
We all have a cross to bear and me?
I prefer to simply drive in the stake

But make no mistake,
what's nailed upon
an empty cross
is full of regret and loss
and underneath a barren plain
is buried pleasure and sadistic pain
self recriminations and needless blame,
but all the same
we build empires of shame
to live inside as truly insane
we drink from memories
that stoke a flame
to burn eternally, assuring fame
and comfort in a well of regret
we drink to forget, tomorrow
was just a promise made to us
by those that sit at our feet
when they crawl upon our laps
we are beat, we are trampled beneath
our own demise, we hid beneath
our own disguise
and we expired, when we desired
surcease from our wickedness

As I walk a red card in my  jacket and miles of empty thoughts long cast aside
No words find solace were the demons cling to their vices.
All things decay as if to remind the living of the walk we all must bear

I find no guilt in my pleasures just more scars to bare in happiness to none.
Whispers of once was lay in empty thoughts.
I speak with a mouth full of razors all to eager to cut down the meek .
No words hold me in chains I simply but as I will nothing speaks clearly as a pause of silence.

And the old thoughts that linger to grow into rumors
Now they are all that is left of me .

Rumors of old bones that litter
the path to ruin are spoken by
those that whisper to dead ghosts
and kiss bloodless lips
inside crumbling passages
of age old keeps, on windswept
moors where bleeding eyes leak
tears weeping for something more

Down the streets cobbled with fear
slicked with garbage and the stench
of ever rotting verbiage,

Speak no more in silence, cry no more in penance of an oft abused
life that only walks alone under an
ever present thunderstorm of
howling winds and lightening strikes
and icy rivulets that trickle upon skin

This walk of  sin is where it begins .

That's it?
You leave just like that
Quicker then lighting
You ran far away.


Am I too much to handle?
Am I too messed up?
Is my body to littered in scars for you too look at?

You promised you would never leave
And look at that
Your straight out the door
As **** gets tough


You swore you would stay
Not matter what
But look at us now
2 million miles apart
Because I was too much