I find passion in the strangest things, perhaps they aren't strange at all, I just feel as if I should be passionate of my own ideas, children of my own soul. A fire awakens in me from the words of another alcohol addled mind and I search deep inside to find a way to make a beautiful thing but I'm always far too sober to and I wonder if maybe I could be like that. A pull or two from Jack's lips makes me feel warm, like I'm home, similar to how a lovers hand on my stomach while im sleeping makes me feel. But maybe if I could find that Absolut resolve she could make my insides as beautiful as I am on the surface. Oh, yes, I am beautiful I see that now but that's neither here and certainly not there. I miss when I could wind words around and around and around me and I could climb like an eight legged beast from one end to the other visiting those i'd ensnared. Smiles and laughs and tears and everything we shared is here but you went away. As if to tell me what it is I never wanted to know. 

You can have your heart or you can have your tongue but only god could have both and even he chooses to have neither.