i don’t fit in anywhere
i’m not allowed love
i’m not allowed a single person
not one
everyone leaves eventually
but anyways

Feelings frustrate me.
When I have them, I'm sad.
When they leave me, I'm numb.
Most of the time, I hover just between the two,
in sight of my sadness but just far enough away
to feel nothing.

I stare at the guitar resting on my thigh,
hating the way my legs look and the stupid clothes I wear.
I wonder why the more I play and the harder I strum
the worse my hands feel the next day.

I don't want to succumb to a miserable existence.
I'm feeling less and less sad and more anxious.
It's a storm twisting and roaring in the darkest pit of my stomach
and leeching the life out of my brain and my thoughts are
so loud.

I can't feel love towards anybody who doesn't exist in my imagination and sigh when another friendship falls into the abyss of neglect.
My identity laughs as I stumble around this dark maze,
growing sick of this pointless game of hide and seek and cursing myself for running the batteries out of my dim flashlight.

Sometimes it's bearable.
Sometimes I wake up in the morning and my scars don't burn, and my brain isn't screaming in my ear.
Sometimes the music I play sounds better, and sometimes the friends I talk to understand when I need my space and when I need to be loved.

Sometimes, I'm able to sigh in the crisp autumn breeze and feel comfortable in my own skin without having to write down my feelings in meaningless free-verse.

In the crowd, I feel alone.
The eyes looking at me -
They pierce through to my bone.
In them looks, I see their raw thoughts.

In the crowd, I feel alone.
The hands that reach for me -
No longer do I trust. For every time
I reached out, they were but a mere mirage.

In the crowd, I feel alone.
The words they say -
Their praises bounce off like raindrops on a gamp
Yet their criticisms - they stink me like a bee.

In the crowd, I feel alone.
Each time, a battle of them v/s Me-
I feel their weapons; I feel my adrenaline rush
Yet I am the only one on the battle field.
The battle rages on somewhere within me.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

she never told me
she was made of glass

if I had known

I would have never let
her slip through

my fingers

Left
Right
It doesn't stop
It dances around
So many thoughts
So **** loud
I really meant
To be okay by now
Now sleep, sleep
Come here, come here
But you never do
And it's nothing new
I'm still awake
So tired as I could sleep forever
My thoughts are running faster
I'm tired
I'm done
I'm exhausted
I try
I go
Where?
Sadness and hope
What a dammed midnight
Time
Flows
My mind
Drowns
I
Cry
Alone
All the night

- I dont remember the last time I actually slept.

the first thing I want to tell you is:
I was always jealous of those kids who had glow in the dark stars
that they put on their ceiling
they could create their own personal paradise
and I wanted that power
to create something to stare at during the night
and if I can't play with the sky
I'll settle for plastic
and some tape
when you put your hands in the sky
some might call it playing god
but I'd like to think of it as creativity

you talk about God as if he was holding a cigarette
and
I talk about him as if he was holding a sword
but what if we combined them
a man
dragging a sword through new york
leaning against it on street corners
and asking for a light
they would wonder
wouldn't they
who he was
jeans
some armor
but only enough to cover his battle scars

It's becoming a right of passage
to pass out on the floor
someday
I think I'll wake up
under the sky
and when I look to my right
I'll see a man
with a cigarette
and a sword
that's when I know
that I've made it
I may smile to myself
comforted by the fact
it seems we all end up
on our backs facing the sky

God included

I asked the World, "What can I give?"
The World answered back, "Well, what do you got?"
I said, "Not much."
He said, "That'll do."
So I spit in his face and I gave it to you.

You tipped your  hat and extended your hand,
gracious and grateful and grand.
I said, sweet as honey, "You're my kind of man."
And I jumped in the back of your van.

Half lost, half found we tumbled around
the county the country the sea.
I stuck my head out the window and screamed to the World,
"And you tried to take this from me!"

The World bit his lip as he spit out his dip.
"You'll see what you've done soon enough."
"I ain't scared of nothin'!" I said, shirt unbuttoned,
"besides, I like it rough."

I woke with a start, a missed beat of the heart,
And I rose to look for a spell.
It was dirt and **** and I didn't miss it a bit,
until I noticed that you were long gone.

My heart hurt bad, but my pride hurt worse
and I turned to the World slow and crooned,
"I'll except it this once, but wait a few months,
and know I'll be gone again soon."

The World laughed, "That's true,
but you'll come home again, too."
I said, "Pride sure looks ugly on you."

He took a long sip of wine
and spit out the line:
"Well, loneliness suits you just fine."