i counted all the
times you helped
me to see
the uglier angles
of what i
present as myself

i always believed
in the image i
had of you in
my mind.  one
of a goddess
among men - among
apes with smartphones
but , as
i got closer , i
realized that your
face was nothing
like that goddess ,
that you were
just another girl-ape
with a smartphone
trying to be
whatever someone or
something told you
to be

i lost count
i lost faith

you are below
the wind now

delighting in flesh
in dark rooms
that hide your
pain for a few minutes

in love
only in
dreams

I'm the verses others
                  wish to syllabise,

But I'll be to wordy to condense

into rhyme or reason..


I never configure to a word
                                            count,

To abstract for other to realise
        the meaning of my existence.
my lifes just to complicated to put







                                       into any kind of words.
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .
                                                                               .

1,2,3,4

Keep counting

It’s heavy, and the air is hot

1,2,3,4

Keep counting

I hear the screaming, and all the lies.

Come on girl, keep counting

1,2,3,4 snap snap

My hands are trembling I can’t quite see

But 1,2,3,4. Keep counting. You’ve gotta breathe.

1
2
3
4

That’s how many breaths you need
Count to 4. Count to 4.
Just. Keep. Counting.

Most everything we did, we did too many times to count.
The kisses hello and kisses goodnight,
all-consuming hugs and kicks under the table.
The side glances you'd give me,
with that half smile
in response to a joke that was not good
and was probably mine.

I told you I loved you too many times to count.
All the nights out and all the nights in
under covers with a movie we would give up on
because I was asleep in your arms,
on your shoulder,
too many times to count.

You pressed your nose against mine too many times to count
so close that I'd look with only one eye at a time
and try to memorize your face
smiling in response to that very special smile you saved
for only when we were nose to nose
then wait not so patiently for you to kiss me.

I wish I had a tally
of all these nice things and nice words
to wrap up into nice memories
I could keep and count for years to come.
But I regret much more not counting the other things
of the not so nice nature
important things
that needed to be counted
and were not.

Like all those times you made me cry
for equally uncountable reasons,
reasons I can't remember clearly
but at the time sent a chill through my heart
ran through my nerves
got caught in a cold breath
so that I felt the absence of your love
the emptiness of where you told me it was.
I felt that hole too many times to count.

You left me for more interesting things too many times to count
so that I felt so alone
even though I was with you
disappointed that you had disappointed once again.
You, being you,
and me, being me,
being not each other and not close either
then crying again
realizing we would never be.

We went to bed angry too many times to count
and woke up forgetful every time after
because our problems could not be fixed
and we knew it would do us no good to look at them.

I thought about breaking up too many times to count
and clearly you did too,
because I can count the number of times we did, once.
Still, you broke my heart too many times to count
before, during, after our relationship,
picking up the pieces, the uncountable number of pieces,
and piecing myself back together
on just another occasion I would not bother counting.

I loved you in spite of everything too many times to count
Let my heart burn with quiet hope
hoping everything would be okay
even though it was never okay
and my heart was already cooked black
yet still, I could probably start counting now.

If only I had counted
then I would know how much I don't need you
then I would have some grand sum as proof
then I wouldn't have to count now

count the tears I still cry
count the nights I can't sleep
count the drinks I don't count to drink more

My heart falls silent after a fit of anguish and pain and desperation
watching the gears in my brain snap with the
incompatibility of reality and my now silent heart
Fallen flat. too tired to get back up