and maybe you don't want me here.
and maybe I don't want you to want me here
and maybe I want you to want me so much that your heart hiccups

and maybe I drink to summon the courage to say it
and maybe I drink to find it

and maybe I loved you
and maybe I still do

and maybe I don't want you to see me broken
and maybe I want you to feel the shattered glass of my fingertips

and maybe we're doomed
and maybe we're destined

and maybe last night was different
and maybe we'll never change

and maybe we love like cancer

and maybe we walk like Egyptians

and maybe we just need time
and maybe we've had enough for tonight

and maybe we make bonfires on bunk beds

and maybe you turned your back to me
and maybe I left

and maybe you love the hawk with brown tipped wings

and maybe common sense isn't so common

and maybe we're newcomers
and maybe we never got there

and maybe those weren't tears, but stray raindrops

and maybe all my words are lyrical
and maybe my pen is tapping out my heartbeat

and maybe I watch you watch me

and maybe we jive like honey bees
and maybe I dream of daffodils and popcorn

and maybe we've lost faith in God and gravity and poetry

and maybe I ride my bike down the narrow streets downtown
and maybe I sunbathe on park benches
and maybe I fell from my tree house

and maybe I flew
and maybe our hands don't fit quite right
and maybe I tried to recreate snowflakes

and maybe I dance to the songs you hate
and maybe you know every word from my favorite poem

and maybe I cry when I think too much
and maybe I smile at every hair on your body

and maybe I loved you
then again, maybe not.

Cowards avert fate,
The tenacious, challenge.

The indifferent...
are happiest.

You awaken in the cardboard box
That you refer to as your home
The dawn is barely breaking
And already you feel alone

A *****’s bath in a public restroom
Then you’re ready to start your day
Layers of stage makeup hide the wounds
Of the lead in this lack of morality play

First up is the sadistic businessman
He knows the drugs you need
But it comes with one condition
That he gets to see you bleed

With his one hand around your throat
And the other grabbing your breast
He takes whatever looks good
And leaves you with the rest

You straighten out your dress
And try to wipe yourself clean
You’re helped back to your feet
By a schoolboy of age seventeen

He's skipped his classes for the day
And borrowed his mother's van
Now he’ll gladly pay your fee
If you'll make him into a man

It’s all over before it begins
A symptom he can't control
You can barely feel it anyway
Numb in both body and soul

At night you meet your ****
And give the devil his due
You willingly submit to him
As he runs you through

You retreat to the cardboard box
That you refer to as your home
The moon is heavy in the sky
And you can finally be alone

Your lips wrap around the pipe
The smoke molests your lungs
And slowly you begin to forget
The world that you came from

You once dreamt of a white knight
That would come and take you away
Now seen as only vestiges
Of a young girl’s naiveté

Dignity is a memory
An illusion from your past
Like pleasure or happiness
A feeling you could never grasp

You once thought you’d hit rock bottom
But there was so much further left to fall
You were filled with unknown fears
But now you’ve named them all

Add up the rocks they pay
As you break their last taboo
And the secrets that they share
When they’re deep inside of you

A normal person would go insane
But your body is no longer yours
Are you less than human now?
One of a thousand nameless ******

You wonder if they see a woman
Or just another object on her knees
You could show them who you really are
But that’s not what they pay you to be

If anyone were to ask me,
for some reason,
when was the last time
I was touched by someone
who loves me.
The answer would be simple.

                                      Never.

But if they were to ask
perhaps,
when was the last time
I was touched by someone
with nothing but empty,
primal lust
I would sadly have to admit
                                    
                      ­                 Last week.

Even stranger,
if they were to ask,
when was the last time
that I was left
feeling worthless
and incapable of normalcy.
There would be no answer
because it's
                                       Constant.



But they won't ask.
So I'll tell them anyway.

you're in paradise, but still calling out to me
you see, i don' have a problem, crossing the sea
i'd do it for you, within a single beat of my heart
that way, our souls would never have to part

i'd like it that way, you know, you and me
you've shown you don't have a problem, crossing the sea
you'd do it too, within a single beat of your heart
so why, why... do you demand we must be apart?

i'm sickenly optimistic
not one to be very cryptic
let me show you, just how much
just feel this friction in our touch...

feel that? yeah, that's it.
i know it's hard to admit.

I fell in love with a girl.
And when I say fell, I mean crashed, heart-first.
Willingly....
Immersed every inch of my self.
Soul-first...
Into this love...

We went swimming.
So willingly.

And I held you...
So close.
So tight.
And we slept so sound in those surroundings.
Tangled.
Together.
In silence.
In the dark.

You didnt need a TV those nights to keep the boogeyman at bay.

So willingly...
I quenched you in my arms...
So that our hearts could perpetuate perfect pulses.
In unison...like a symphony of moving atoms.
And we produced thermal fusion.
Tangled.
Together.

I see you.
My reflection.
That first time we locked eyes...
We saw souls.
And this collision formed one heavenly body.
That's why I cried over this division.
This imperfect perfection.

And I never gave 2nd thought when you told me i'd never lose you.
I believed you.
But then...I wanted to.
I wanted you.

I'm still trying to brush away the dust as it settles into sentiment.

This reflection...
Rippled but real...
Forms rings of imperfect perfection...

When we're both looking in the same direction.

Gold tipped crocus spears
Pierce the frost-skinned garden's heart:
Winter lies bleeding

Maybe* you will read this but probably not
Maybe you give a **** but that isn't likely either
Maybe you're just as hurt as I am but there's just
No
Way
You're as ****** up as me
But maybe I'm wrong
Maybe you really do care just a bit
No. That's not a possibility.
Where was I going with this...?
****

Oh, that's right, maybe you hate me and my music and my writing
Or the way you still think of me how I think of you
And maybe we're both just sick of it and want it to *******
STOP

*But maybe
Just maybe
I don't give a **** and it's time for me to care for myself the way you never could nor will

The page, a canvas
The pen, the brush
Creativity, the medium
Heartbreak, the inspiration

A coffee mug and a Monster, both empty
Paper everywhere
Where are the pens, again?
It has to be black ink
This is a routine, it is sacred

Scribbled and crossed out words
Some to correct rhythm
Others to hold back
'Restrain
Contain your thoughts
Don't lie, stay true.
But don't give too much of you'
Avoid vulnerability, but don't be cold
Approach the microphone
Watch out. Almost hit the guitar on the wall...
Again.
Turn this level up, this one down
Turn everything else off and just

Listen
Is that your best?
Another take?
No, we're done
You're done
You're the only one here
Close up shop
Go home
Oh, you already are home
Thank god it's not an office job
Leave the room and wash up
Water on skin replaces the sweat
Soap attempts to make you feel clean
Don't look up when you get out of the shower

Music, the only mirror you will hold up to see yourself in
Your reflection,
A man and a monster
Both empty