You live to tell stories;
so that you can tell somebody important
so that they'll put you on a pedestal
to listen closely for words of amazement and admiration.
You live for the satisfaction of other people
base your value on their comments.
they determine your price tag
Tell me
what will you do when they no longer care?
Where will you go to be admired?
When the world is done with you
and on to the next and
all you have is the past
memories that only played fillers...
that meant nothing but
a trophy to you
they lose their worth,
wrinkles and scars mark your skin and your heartbeat slows
Did you live for you?
or the judgment of someone else?

After junior high,
I met this guy
Who only seen stars and dollar signs
He kept his clothes clean, his shoes white
and everyday invited me to get high
Some days I envied his independence
Though I came to find he was friendless
And his smokey afternoons were spent alone in
his room at home
exhaled out of windows.
Some days he told me things that others would often doubt
But when I agreed, he'd shut me out
I didn't mind it much.
He didn't know how to love.
That subject foreign to speak of
a silent agreement between us.
The dollar signs and stars crowd his heart
I don't blame him at all.
We are the same with our roaming souls and cloudy brains
not from the smoke but from becoming insane.
Insane in the most unique way

Your eyes were an abyss,
a black hole that I could never understand.
But at that last minute, the last time you told me  "goodbye"
I had fallen and lost myself in that abyss.
Inside comatose and insomnia I wish for you.
In a sweet fever I call your name.. to get silence in return.
I wander through life with a numbness only awakened with hints of you.
In strangers I see parts of you,
a voice
a walk
certain features.
I find comfort in those strangers.
But they're never you.
And I remain in this abyss.