Who is that girl? The one they call Nobody, the one who owns a heart of bleeding glass
Gazing at the other girl, the girl that isn't sitting alone
Girl with skin like porcelain, she has the eyes of emerald trees
Grin from the deepest sea's pearls and a laugh that spreads like a disease
She just looks at you once and just like that, she's every every problem's cure

She has everything… and Nobody wants to be like her.
Eating is no longer allowed, she'd rather be away
Shoves her fingers down her throat to make herself okay
She watches herself die and become a mess
She drowns in her tears, because she isnt seeing any success.

Minutes turn to hours, and these hours turn to days
Every moment slipping, slowly fading into grey
Quickly, her figure turns to nothing but her bones
She fights for beauty, its a battle for the throne

Broken hearts must learn to beat, and this she came to know
She learned it the hard way when her heartbeat grew too slow
But, she still somehow managed to hide from what's within
Lying in her casket with her hidden, unseen sin.

Final thoughts inside her head scream through the tattered skies
She had never reached her goal, the one that caused her to cry.
They never understood how the torture was so rough
and how She was never beautiful… not beautiful enough

one thing
i know for sure
drugs do what they promise
and i know
a lot of people
who aren't even
that dependable
until they quit working
like a lot of guys ive lived with
but drugs are thieves
and what they steal
can't be measured
in highs
or even in cash
when compared with
snatching pieces of security
and i'm left with a box
of empty stash
an agreement
my drugs and and i
design, resign
into a 2-party contact
lets me enter, sign
leaves me trashed,
one consuming the other and
on the dotted line
we traded control
the boundaries faded
disintegrated
****** and junk
become assimilated

the many brushstrokes of our love transformed
colors into muddled messes.
kind words come out in curses
and silence obliterated foundations strong as stone.
  Shifting narratives paint
murals of sadness and neglect
instead of illuminating the truth,
as they filter through the cathedral’s stained glass
like my many sins
in a life before i knew the lines in your irises.
green like grass.

watching the moon for expression
is like waiting
for your words to bandage a wound
pride tore open further than
the deepest depths of an ocean
and the tiny cuts
i feel every time i hear your common name on another man’s body.
they are not the same.
logic tells me
you were by no means extraordinary
or excpetional.
but to me?
you were every breath
in my heaving chest, running out of room for sorrow
every gust of wind running through my hair
and all the tiny atoms of my being that were reborn when you woke each morning.
     Someday far into the future,
     you will die in a regular fashion
     and my heartstrings
     will break
     one
     after
     another.
     and
    again.
    as
    i
    too
    become
    dust.
in a life before i knew the lines in your irises.
green like grass.