All the things left behind
All these crumpled memories
They still remain in mynd
I am lost inside of me

Glimpse inside of mynd
And you will find
Stubborn thoughts
With no beginning

I am lost inside of me, you see
Searching for my identity
My map is torn and I've broken the key
But still I search for me

Glimpse inside of mynd
And you will see
Broken pieces in search of




Me

I am just a foolish fisherman
Fishing for the fish for me
Of all the fish in this blue sea
Only one is right for me

I wake at dusk
And cast til dawn
I catch a few
And throw them back
They're not the one for me

Day by day I try
But all to no avail
This lonely heart can only think
Maybe there is no fish for me

Day by day I waste away
When a fish approaches me
Casts its line, and reels me in
This fish has captured me

I am just a foolish fisherman
But my heart is filled with glee
Today I've learned a lesson
I, too, am a fish inside the sea

To be or not to be,
That is the question
That captivates my thoughts,
And haunts my dreams
To be or not to be,
This is the question
That haunts me

To be or not to be
That truly is the question
Gets lost inside
The troubled mind
And brings the heart
To question

Is pain a part of living?
Or is death life's great deception?
Is joy found in the journey?
Or is it a distant destination?

To be or not to be,
Is still the question
That haunts me
Until the day I lay
My soul to sleep
I'll draw my final breath and say,
To be or not to be

***, drugs, money & music
it sounds like the dream
but it's just an excuse
and I wanna be clean
and I've tried to refuse
but it keeps calling me
and I'm afraid that I'll lose
all the good things in me
if I give in and use
but I'm in desperate need
Of a f*cking excuse

So one more time
I'll quit it tomorrow,
I just need one more night
to gather my thoughts
and leave my troubles behind

I gaze up at the stars,
Start filling with confliction
Parts of me are lost in space,
Just beyond my furthest reach

All that remains of me, it seems
Are twisted memories

The broken pieces left to die
As fragments in the sky

Day 1: I want to tear my skin off. My heart is beating so fast i can barley breathe. I feel so filthy.
Day 2: I can't believe this. I don't want to be here. Why did this happen? Why did I let this happen?
Day 5: I guess I drank too much and my friends were to drunk to stop me.
Day 10: I can't face my friends, I can't live my life.
Week 3: No one knows. He hasn't said a word.
Week 6: It happened again, I was sleeping and he did it again. Why did I stay the night? Why didn't I go straight home?
Week 7: He left and kissed me goodbye. I don't know how to feel.
Week 10: My life's out of control, I can't believe whats happening.
Month 5: My boyfriend knows. But not all details. Just thinking about it, makes me want to take a shower.
Month 8: I finally came clean to my friends. They're appalled. They hate him now. I still feel filthy. I can't get his smell off my body still.
Month 11: The anniversary is soon. What am I going to do?
Year 1: I haven't spoken to him in months. I haven't thought about it in days. I still feel as if hes on top of me, why can't I wash him away?

Its an uphill battle with myself and others. Some days I can't get out of bed or even feel like breathing.
But I try not to let him get to me. Because if he sees my weakness from what hes done,
He's won.

when I was five and life was a song of
excitement and innocence
the world was full of mystery
and I had never felt
the pain of hurt or loss of
any kind    and then
one day
a playmate pushed me right off the swing
you picked me up   brushed me off
   told me not to cry
‘mommy,’ I said,
‘it hurts’

when I was sixteen and in love for the  first time
to a young Cuban girl I felt like
    an adult doing adult things
dates and kissing and groping
and late-night phone calls with the
cord stretched and twisted through the house
and under my door    and then
one day
she left me for another teenage crush
and I felt world-ending
anguish  burning, hot, consuming
as only a teenager can feel them
you held me close
   told me I’d be ok
‘but mom,’ said I,
‘it hurts.’

when I was thirty-five at the end of my marriage
holding on to it with desperate and futile hands
trying to be a good father to my sons
who put me on a pedestal high enough
to rival the gods
I fought depression
and anger
even as I felt co-dependent longing
for the woman who was
  breaking my heart
there at the end of that marriage
one day
you held your grandchildren
and me
   and told us we’d be ok
‘mom,’ I said
   ‘it hurts.’
  
when I was thirty-eight and dying
from the cancer eating  my body
  repulsed by
the very sight of my
shriveled and sunken body with
chemotherapy eyes set deep
deep inside my skull
and scars on my body finally
making me as ugly in life as I felt inside
I despaired and I grieved
the loss of innocence
in my children and the burden
on my new girlfriend
one day
you sat by my bedside
and held my hand,
  told me the kids
and I
were stronger than I knew
‘but mom’ I said, looking
at their pictures,
‘it hurts.’

when I was forty and strong again,
recovered from cancer
and from divorce
my scars a badge of character and honor
with a beautiful new bride by my side
a new life to live
and a new daughter to love
that day
  you lay in a hospital bed
clinging desperately to life
     machines to monitor
tubes to breath
nurses to care and
doctors to treat
I held your hand, like you always held mine,
  alongside
your daughter (my sister) and
your other son (my brother)
as you breathed your last
even as I
   sobbed at your passing
and fell into the arms of my wife and siblings
I wondered
  selfishly
who now will hold me like you did
like only you could
because oh god, mom
it hurts.