[Some-a-ways-on-down the line, you stole your way to my sleeping. You took only-pictures, before finally, robbing me of sleep-at-all. So, I guess I don't slip, and fall, in love. It's black, inside my pen, and I can feel it, and use it to write, and run out-of-it. All-empty after-April, and then it's time to steal-another. From work, from a friend, or, from her innocence. Am I making sense, yet?]

Are you with him, [page 12] right now? Am I paranoid, or am I creepy? Am I making you uncomfortable, just by asking? Am I thinking-the-friendship is for-simple, forever? In-the-fire, over foolishly having been buried-in-love, with you? Can I share this without regretting it? I don't regret writing it. Witholding absolutely all respect for what-may-happen-next, for the fiend, the blonde-model I've wished you would call: "Ex." And, all the air in my lungs I've got left, and a small cloud of smoke, and designs for a theft. I'll say, last-way: I love you, I don't regret that I've said it. I just hope, win, or lose, here, you'll text back when you've read it.

[Rolling Studded]

[page 13]
Wrote, in-silver-soaked-December-fourteen,
eyes-rolling, over the
studs, in your wrists.

Now, you be the gunman.
I've felt like the anti-Christ, the whole-way,
from home.

Rust-red, rather 
than blood, rubicund, 
just "read, anything-at-all, to me."

Shoot me with your
right-hand, sterling, and
bid the Devil, "back-down."

You never sing to her softly
Letting your voice carry more
Than the lyrics
I'm not saying I do
I'm not saying I'm any more deserving
Because truthfully, I'm not.

You don't look out at the waves and
Wonder why those work,
But peace won't
And the pieces of your heart
Don't wane as she walks by.

You seldom shut people out, or
Smoke yourself to sleep, since the
Haze is perfect for
Hiding your inhibitions.

And I'll never be drunk enough to
Tell her I love her.
Silver-eyed stories that
Send her on trips of 
Simple joys
And me, on
Walks into abysses
Which speak louder than her words.

Breaking bottles in the streets
Shaking off the beat of the
Buttons of the wrists 
Of the shirt you were wearing as it
Struck the wood of the guitar
And lighting up once more
Even though I know I shouldn't,
And you never would

Brown paper battle scars
Listening to the rustle of the
Running shoes against the 
Grain of the stories I'd been told and the
Lessons I was supposed to learn
But you told me not to

If I were to send you off
Into space with the aspirations of my ancestors, 
My predecessors
My most appreciated poems,
Would you celebrate with me?
Would you dance?
Like your best friend's parents
Have left for the weekend
And summer vacation started
Yesterday?

I'd hope you would.
Because you never used to.
And it kills me that I inhabit the same housing as you, 
When I want to be nothing like you
Eviction would be a drug for me
Letting go would be a killing
But like the records in which I
Invest my time
You just keep spinning and
Spinning and
Spinning and
The only way to stop you is to
Acknowledge that you'll never.