a lonely heart
in a crowded room
and it feels like I'm falling
falling, falling, falling
scars and scabs outline my knuckles;
battle wounds from all the holes
I've been punching,
in the walls of my mind.

I still pretend you're here with me.
but that's like
pretending god isn't laughing at us
or that "what doesn't **** us
makes us stronger" and
it's evident I'm weak.

the flowers are all dead now
without you.
your voice was the sun,
and your smile the rain,
that kept the garden in my heart alive.
now thistle and weeds
are all that remain.

I'm still falling
falling, falling, falling
with no end in sight,
but lately I can't decide
if hitting rock bottom would **** me,
or if I'm already dead.

"the battle is over!
the war has been won!"
claimed the soldiers
while tallying scores.

although blood
had been shed,
soldiers severing heads
rejoiced all across the moor.

"someone call the king!
we must tell the king!
we now own this here land,
how divine!"

but the king had been found
being renegade 'round
his opponents,
while out guzzling wine.

"I killed my dear brother;
beheaded my mother
to service you and
this ****** rotten realm!"

so I'll see to it, you!
if it's the last thing I do,
that you're found
drinking wine in hell!"

partying got old in a hurry.
it aged like milk that was bought
a few days before expiration.
and I'm lactose intolerant anyway,
why the **** am I drinking this?

I'm looking for something more mature,
that becomes ripe
with the passage of time,
like 50 year old scotch.
and I'm an alcoholic anyway,
why isn't there a bottle in my hand?

overwhelmed with the thought of you
drinking anything
with anyone else
while I sit here alone
and sip another cup of coffee,
with only the wind to keep me company.
and even he doesn't stay for long.