Should I roll back into nothing. A ghost into a house with many beds, and a large window with a large sill you once said you would make your writing nook. And read and drink hot cups of tea and coffee. I can still see you there, in my future. A wet, gray and fogged morning out there. And you're across the room at the window. I feel like maybe I shouldn't create this dream and hope. That one day, you'll pull down my driveway. Find me working on something outside, and sweating. Or riding. Or i see you through my front window in the cold with my fire burning. I feel like maybe I shouldn't create this a dream and a hope.  But you know what? **** holding back.
I'll believe onward in you even though you might not ever pull down my driveway, one day.
I deserve nothing for my emotional abuse that was placed upon you by my doing. I get why you may never come down the drive.
I still want to hold onto that thought. Because that might keep me alive through these years, even though i don't really feel like livin' anymore. I'll be there. Off of that high way, i will be there if the dark doesn't take me away. If the need to pass on doesn't become to much. I would drop to my knees if you pulled down that drive some day. You would hear the gravel in my voice and see the struggle on my brow. I may roll back into that house, or a second deployment in the desert, or death. Death is easy, no last good fight left in giving up on myself. Even though it would hardly matter anyway. You would come down my drive. And i would drop, and i would cry. Because i do cry, because i've been crying, because i'm crying now.
That place out there, where I will reside, where i may hide. You're always welcome to venture out. Sometime. The future is always uncertain. Come and hug me, come and scream in my face, come and make me bleed, come and **** me lovingly, come and destroy me in every way you know possible. I'll be on my knees,
i'll be on my knees.