If you could see me now,
guarded in conviction
and hidden along my own invisible trail
you would know all the immeasurable times your name rings like a melody through my mind
and your smile splattered on canvas in my thoughts

the cold days I burrow myself in bed and stare at the ceiling…
there is no nothingness more horrible than space without you
and no nothingness more pleasant than the comfortable silence as I’m along your side

If you could see me now,
I would be weeping at an unmarked tombstone
recalling fateful memories that never occurred
and with you, making the ones that were yet to happen

If you could see me now,
I’d hold you tight, fragile glass against my chest
and your soothing warmth would never escape my grasp again

If you could see me now,**
my eyes would be matched with that of yours
and I’d never look elsewhere again

Eyes
I'm sorry for forcing you to endure such demanding labor
For flooding your irrigation gates with salty tides of woeful cries
For impairing your vision as loneliness takes human form and riverwalks across your irises
Please, forgive *me

Mind
I'm sorry for causing you to overthink constantly
For saturating your fields of knowledge with dangerous negative thoughts
For bullying you with these words and questioning your sanity
Please, forgive me

Heart
I'm sorry for bruising and blackening your core
For halting the flow of electric passion between your chambers and preventing your ability to attach with the strings of another
For fueling your disappointment over and over again, yet you still exhaustingly pump and beat for me
Please, forgive me

Soul
I'm sorry for draining the waters from your wells of hope
For leaving you hollow, I can hear your echoes of misery
For dehydrating you of joy and penetrating your walls with shards of dejection, I can feel you slowly dying inside of me
Please, forgive me

You
You've created a villain of despair
Who forges anger and depression upon himself
You've given me the tools to destroy my body from the inside out
Yet, my body is still running on the reserves of our recycled love
So just come to me, and tell me you're sorry
Please, I want to forgive *you

Fluorescent lights
Above a hospital bed
Monotone sound, dead

I love you brother
Listen closely to my words
Your soul remains lit

the bottom of a bottle fails to satisfy my thirst for happiness

I can't help but notice
A rift in our ways
As my eyes grow sleepy
When they are matched with yours

My lips have been touched with snowflakes
Numb to the taste of a past love
And my heart beats slower now
When you tell me you love me

Again and again
The distance of emotion
The collapse of passion
Be like the winds of the spring, and leave with the rain

The coolest girls in the world put rings in the places where doctors disconnected them from their mothers. Guys put ink in their forearms. Spaces in their ears. Their parents say things like, “what the ****?” But even they know ink and plastic gaps are better expressions than dead Vietnamese and ****. Better expressions than a vote towards Michael Reagan’s father, the movie star.

You were the fools that bought homes, cars, and color tv’s on unprecedented credit, things for your daughters and sons that they would probably disparage if only they knew the word. You were the ******* that made Sam’s Club, because Costco and Wal-mart weren’t enough. The one’s that plugged us into free AOL accounts that Stater Brother’s gave you with your purchase of Pop Tarts and Cookie Crisps. I guess you could say the ink in our arms is yours as much as ours.

The thing about ink though, is that it’s more constant than anything this generation has ever known. When our TV’s become internet, and internet 4G, and 4G spaceships, the **** in our arms will persist as what was once alive. It will remind us of the life we lived before we were tattooed with the consumerism and media that you did nothing to stop.
  
Maybe you should have kept doing acid, you all were much more promising in the 60's.