Addictive Personalities Are Genetic.


There is never a plausible excuse to skin the knees of those you love,
by taking their training wheels off too soon as they collapse into thorny bushes,
nor allow them to burn from their once fiery child-like wonder
to picking up a cigarette,
old habits don’t die hard,
that’s why second, third, and fourth generation smokers still exist
Home is not where the heart is,
Home is the name given to places that keeps you warm without being burned;
making you feel whole again,
after years of being hollow

Do not mistake people as a shelter-
find comfort in your own soul
and these hands that open life's doors

You don’t have to be shadowed by your supposed love ones, 
you do not have to lose your voice,
or grasp upon the rotting wooden front porch door, 
leaving splinters in your fingertips

Your lungs, like deflated balloons 
exasperated to walk into the war, 
the foundation you dwell in

Clawing your way from the disapproval of cruel words, 
you don’t have to lose your heart in that messy place

Someone who claims to believe in you,

shreds you: to sculpt something better
is not worthy of being marveled-

There are some things even the devil knows he was never fit for, 
and some companions are demons in disguise

Let the tar scald those lungs,
forget the reasons you no longer wish to breathe
even after you die anguish rests in my marrow
--
and the guilt just sits between my teeth
 as she uses the flames from the hell she is in
to became a fifth generation smoker

Call upon the troubadours
who are unaware of the telephone:
to them it was ghosts coming through on wires.
Darkness empowered imagination,
and light caused it to surrender.
Now I ask, "How's the weather?"
And you bring up the past.

The fire that still burns between us
extinguished by time.
Time has this rotting effect--
when a clock can be reconstructed,
but never turned back.

Used to be in lust,
but I just say fine
the only time I meant it was
when you were mine,
living inside my mind.

They sent me away in April
when we stopped talking completely-
I saw you outside my barred windows
looking out upon the horizon
met with kisses from the pavement.

My vertigo didn't plague me anymore,
when all I wanted was to soar.

They reintroduced us inside a paper cup,
you were blue, white, and green.
Tasted of nothing,
there again,
self-immolation seemed like something out of a movie scene.

Saw you in my dreams,
but never awoke with you next to me.
You were never watching over me in the mirror reflection.
You stopped coming, ending the affection.

I'm still wondering where you've gone,
when I was released
they said you'd take your time
but perhaps with the changing chemicals running amuck
in my brain,
you'd show me a sign?

The times they-are a-changin;
you ain't going nowhere.

Not dark yet,
rainy day women

subterranean homesick blues,
if not for you --
when the deal goes down,
lay, lady, lay.

I shall be released;
blowin' in the wind,
like a rolling stone

Down the highway.

Girl from the north county;
mr tambourine man,
jokerman,
ring them bells.

With god on our side,
to Ramona—
it takes a lot to laugh,
it takes a train to cry

Crazy little thing called love–
a kind of magic,

See what a fool I've been,
Radio Ga Ga;
jealousy,
liar --
breakthru,

don't stop me now.

The show must go on,
spread your wings,
these are the days of our lives—

love of my life.

Keep yourself alive,
too much love with **** you;
I'm going slightly mad,
save me.

Who wants to live forever?
under pressure