you're burning bridges
faster than you can build them,
making an abandoned
island
out of what was once called paradise      
  
you looked at me with an empty heart
and I tried to fill it  
"you're good, baby, you're so good"  
but my voice was so weak
and you didn't believe me
and, baby, you've gone bad

you're so busy fighting to be relevant
that you forgot to stop
fighting against the boy
with a smile like the moon
and arms like home

you've tried so hard to be tough
that you won't let the good things in
and the bad things won't leave
and you're dying from your own poison,
rotting in your own prison
from the inside out and

you're begging me
for something to quench your thirst but
I could pour you
glass after glass of compassion
and you'd empty it onto the floor because you can't bear to actually drink it

Instead you chase whiskey with self-pity
and I
watch helplessly
as pieces of my past
come dancing to life on stage
in front of me

I can't give hope to arms too shaky to hold it,
can't give faith to a stomach that can't keep it down     
     
"you're good, baby, you're so good," I whispered

but then I walked away and took my words with me, too

Your love was the foggy, soot-filled landscape. The dawn overlooking the scene. The light piercing through the smog. The hot, smothering air with a dry powder texture that cakes my lungs. Infects me.
     Your love was desolate; with only the sound of your voice tethering it to the rest of the world. The sound of the fastidious, yet somewhat, saturnine emotion was enough to keep me interested. You are the background noise that emanates from a television in an empty room that keeps me company. Your love is the remains of a scrapyard, landfill, or the outskirts of a factory. It is busy yet barren. Occupied but lonely. Near but never there.
   Your love was a pile of dirt, trash, and soot. Your love did nothing but overlook the melancholy of me. As if it was the eyes of god, they judged the corruption and pollution of my greed and desire with not anger or hate, but instead, with regret and sadness. It was always watching; always judging. And I was cursed. Never able to look away.

We've never met, but can I hold your hand?
Can our fingers intertwine? Can we place our toes in the sand?
Can I strum my guitar as you smile and listen?
Can I look into your eyes, see your heart with my vision?
Can I kiss you slow? As we both get lifted into space?
Can I tickle your forearm slowly as your hand gently touches my face?
Create a first date..the burn from the candle lights as desire starts to dim
As I hear her pretty voice, as I feel her passion from within
We've never met, but the idea of love seems to linger
The potential of my imagination..the thought of a ring on her finger.
We've never met, but I think about watching you leave and me starting to miss you
When you start to cry, my sleeves are your tissue,
Help you feel real affection
Help me get through all I've been through.
We've never met. We've never gave it a try
Why do I still want to meet you than?
Why do I feel these feelings?
We've never met, so why do I feel like our possibilities died? Why?
(I hope to see you soon.)

Your love is unhealthy and infectious. I find myself ill with revolt. I'm bedridden; shackled by abandonment and chained by regret. I need an exorcism to purge me of your sin. I've been telling you for months that I wish to be clean of these mind-altering drugs, yet you keep coming back and finding your way into my veins. Who knew that something as delicate as flower petals would be my demise? Who knew that sandy beaches and empty street corners would eventually be the death of all sanity? You doused my heart in gasoline and told me to set myself on fire. Little did you know that the spark inside your eye was enough to catch us both aflame. I used to think that if I couldn't have you, that I'd rather be alone, but now I find myself taking that wretched curse of my past, and carving what's left of you out of my skin. Sadly, the ravines and trenches on my wrists will forever be a symbol of the day I learned what it feels like to break. I woke up screaming last night (every night, oh god, every night), and rose to a room bathed in red, with sacrificial bruises around my throat. I laughed because I realized that my own hands were to blame, not yours. My mind is starting to cave in on itself, and these four walls are getting closer and closer. I'm scared. I feel disgusting and I'm begging you to please, let go. I gave you everything I had. You've taken my spare change and kicked me in the ribs, abandoning me in a crowded alley. HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SCREAM OUT YOUR NAME UNTIL IT STOPS MAKING SENSE? WHEN WILL THE STARS QUIT POINTING IN YOUR DIRECTION, AND WHEN WILL YOU RELEASE YOUR FINGERS FROM AROUND MY HEART? I HATE MYSELF FOR FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOUR HYPOCRISY. I HATE MYSELF FOR FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOUR GAMES. I HATE MYSELF FOR FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOUR PAST, BECAUSE ALL I WANTED WAS TO BE A PART OF YOUR  FUTURE. GET OUT OF ME GET OUT OF ME GET OUT OF ME GET OUT OF ME GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUT OUTOUTOUTOUTOUTOUTTOUOUTOUT-

(a.m.) 06/26/14