You love me.
Whats wrong with you?
You say it every time you hug me.
Why cant i say it ?
I'm afraid of it.
Why am afraid?
cause it could destroy me
if i were to obtain it.
Do I even contain it?
I don't believe I do
because if I were to
I'd love myself, and
you.
-*love

I tried to tell you how it always never ends,
I tried to tell you what it always feels like;
Never push you, never pull you,
Never bend;
Cleaning up my act, yet never feeling spotless,
Draining my thoughts yet still so anxious,
Pulling all of my hair out yet still feel so beautiful,
Calming my nerves yet still jumping into the deep end;
The one thing i've been good at all my life was knowing for a fact that you were meant for me, but I will always and forever be a random bystander as you pass the local coffee shop at 7:36 a.m. on your way to work; but i'm okay with that, because at least I know that i'm breathing the same air as you, & maybe we even swim in the same ocean water every now & then, & hopefully step on the same cement patterns twice in a lifetime.
I would be an idiot to not live the rest of my life with you.
I would be an idiot to let you go so effortlessly.
I would be an idiot to watch you hold someone else's hand on your way out of your apartment, and not say or do anything about it.
I would be an idiot to write this knowingly that you will, for a fact, see it.
But i'm not an idiot, i'm a man with no more hair, and anxious thoughts, and nerves that act up way too often.

Where do I start?... Its taken me over fourty years to write this


Half a bottle of scotch taken each night to drown out the fears
the heartrending sights
Yeah half a bottle is just about right to dull the dreams and the nightmares that still linger
PTSD they call it this day, councelling given to help them get through
what they did see, things they did do
I remember clearly after such a time being told I wasn't a soldier I wasnt a man for being sick with fear, tears in my eyes at the bloodied remains close to my side.
Yeah well I was a soldier but not yet a man, at 19 my life had hardly begun but I still had to survive at the point of a gun
Yeah half a bottle of scotch is the crutch I have found because I'm still alive... Not just another name on a hole in the ground
thousands of miles from home.
Patrolling the paths in the in a land burnt and harsh not knowing what would come, the bullet the bomb or mayber the mine placed or shot by the oft unseen had
OK so I still did my bit in spreading the ****.... Yes I've had their blood on my hands but I still regret the things that I did in that harsh barren land.
Did I hate them? Those men who killed the ones I called friends. No they were only doing what they thought was right in protecting their home and their lands
Yeah so half a bottle of scotch is the friend I now have, it helps to stifle the dreams of the places I saw, the things that I saw and also the things that I did.