In the nights,
When I'm alone,
There's just this feeling,
I get in my bones.

It always gets in my head
Making me think about things
I know I would regret.

But fear not!

There's a good side to this.
Because you see...
It also makes you feel brave.

But remember this as well.
Braveness could lead to a grave.

So we find ourselves here again
Lost for words and looking in
Never quite knowing our place
Not recognizing our own face

I see the razor on the glass
I don't even have to ask
Do you think that it will numb the pain
Or maybe somewhat ease the strain

They placed the apple on your head
Sure their aim had seen better days
Yeah we'll be happy once we're dead
But still it could take years...

Is this where we thought we'd be?
Hating you and loathing me
I see the needle on the floor
I don't question anymore

I wish I could have known my fate
Way before it was too late
Not sure I'd done a thing to change
Seems our lives were pre-arranged

They placed the apple on your head
Sure their aim had seen better days
They'll make us famous once we're dead
But still it could take years...

The only French I speak,
I learned
from the
uncrossable space
in bed

You.

Me.

I learned it
when we started
to just say bye
in the mornings

When we stopped
hugging after
work,

When I was too busy
playing games,
watching Netflix,
on my phone,

and you had already cleaned
the kitchen, put away the laundry,

You wanted something
you won't take now
because I wasn't too busy and I don't even play that game anymore, and I can't remember the shows but I'm sure they are still on Netflix,
and phones will always be a distraction from people to put everything down and take off the masks
we make so we can breathe
every day and connect as people. In those moments, I started missing you and you were already missing me. I just really wish I could stop going Supernova but there's a slowly swirling marble rock ball that's slowly making its way from sitting in fire of the pits of my stomach,

rolling up my chest, bouncing off ribs, escaping to the small of my back, rolling up my spine, spinning
counter clockwise
in figure eights
across my shoulder blades until it sits over my heart and sinks to my
Stomach
Again.

Now I've lost form and more and I really just need to get my

**** together and restart.

Look at what you've done
to my poetry.

BG-4/10/17

Ninety-two days, since my last drink.
The first week I was stranded.
Lost in a desert, parched.

The coldest, freshest water was dust in my mouth.
I couldn't quench my thirst.
Nothing brought that refreshing sensation;
That overwhelming elation that my first beer had each day.

Whenever I took my first sip, I felt enlightened.
My soul beemed with joy.
Nothing else mattered after that first sip.
All the word was irrelevant compared to me and my drink.

And that was the problem.
It was all irrelevant.
Beer was my partner.
Scotch was my lover.
Brandy, my best friend.

And I, was an alcoholic.
I AM, an acoholic.
Ninety-two days into recovery.
Ninety-two days into the rest of my life.

Wonderful and beautiful
Fills my heart with joy
But alas, I have been called weird,
For my love of the story sublime.
I may not care about politics, unless Palpatine is involved,
But chancellors aside, Star Wars is where my world revolves.
I may not be courageous, like the awesome Han Solo,
But, when it inflames my heart, unstoppable I am, just like my heroes.
I cannot stress this enough, it may be bad as a passion, but Star Wars will never desert me! And that's just the start!
Sure, I could spend my time making a million dollars,
Or maybe even starting an empire,
but I see no better way to spend my time,
than to obsess on the thing that is mine!
(just kidding! I don't own it. Is saying that a crime?)
Anyway, to finish off my bad poem I must say one last thing,
STAR WARS STAR WARS YOU ARE MY KING!

Slapped on. Pajamas.
Cold roof. Rising moon.
Neighbors drinking something in blue plastic cups.
Laughter.
I'm laughing. I'm on the floor in tears.
But you don't think its funny.
The night has aged.
It's a new day...
But you are treating it like yesterday.
I'm your best friend,
but you don't seem to think so.
You walk away into the aging day.
I say goodnight and drive away.

Don't do that and don't do this,
The things we're told from birth to death,
But all this life is **** and ****,
And charges you for every breath,

What we drink and what we eat,
What we write and what we make,
Where we go and who we meet,
What we give and what we take,

What we are and what we do,
Unless we choose the pills or knife,
The only choice left we can make,
Is when we choose to end this life.