I can't help it
I guess
I grew up on screenplays
on all of the hidden meanings
the metaphors
they shaped my thoughts

you know I never dated in high school
and I was a looker too
I didn't do it because no girl was perfect for me
there was no princess charming
do you realize how stupid that was
four years wasted

one girl ruined it tho
lisa turner
oh my god this girl
this beautiful body
beutiful smile
perfect everything she was angel
but when she talked
....
dear god she had a lisp
how could that be
how could the perfect girl be
imperfect?

That's when I first realized
something was wrong with me
I discovered that people weren't archetypes
that events weren't symbols
but most importantly
I learned a happy ending was guranteed

The star-filled seas are smooth tonight
     From France to England strown;
Black towers above Portland light
     The felon-quarried stone.

On yonder island; not to rise,
     Never to stir forth free,
Far from his folk a dead lad lies
     That once was  friends with me.

Lie you easy, dream you light,
     And sleep you fast for aye;
And luckier may you find the night
     Than you ever found the day.

I went to the bank?
For hookers and ****.

I feel strongly for a
boy with eyes the color of
bullets
and with biceps built strong
like bolts in the armor
of a tank.

He wears stains of dirt
on calloused hands from
years
of digging plots 6 feet down.
(He thought his name
would be on the tombstones.)

Behind a small smile
and a boisterous laugh,
the affliction rages on. He is the army
of one, battling against an enemy
he’ll see only in the reflection of
his dog tag.