old habits die hard,
but the ones that die the hardest have human faces.
these are boys wrapped around fingers,
these are girls painting their lips,
and here I am, writing love songs for all of them.
here stands Saint Peter and a book,
and his long fingers trailing over the words:
the first chapter was drafted
on the back of a movie ticket,
the second on a cocktail napkin, I think--
the third I wrote with pen on somebody’s skin.
the fourth, scratched on wooden planks
with a knife my father gave me.
and yet--
and yet, here they all are,
together like a leather-bound Bible
and the gatekeeper smiles
and says nothing.
angel, what do I atone for?
yes, these are my hands tearing out the pages,
throwing them into the flames, despairing
please, God, why won’t they burn--?
now in the fire I see movie screens and bare skin,
lips on drink glasses in dark rooms.
here are the things which I have lived and spoken;
the ink won’t come off the paper
and I will never ask for forgiveness.
this is the ending I wrote
when God didn't answer.
here I ask again, and only once--
angel, what do I atone for?
and the gatekeeper smiles
and says
nothing.

Please, stay.
Here, with me.
The voice in my head is lustful.
A hopeless romantic
That does not
Know better.

Wishing you were here,
Yet never again wanting your company.
Wanting to talk
Yet being afraid of having the last words.
Being afraid you will
Once again
Feel false love in the
Cadence, as it trails in your dreams.
Being afraid you will wake up,
Cold sweat,
Actually wanting me.

Though my mind is in a state
Of please stay,
My heart knows the pain
Of when you will once again leave.

So we carry on in our lustful
Regrets.

And please, do leave.
I will not sing for you though I am a bird and you are my sky.
But please, go on knowing
How hard it was for me
To let you in,
Only to see how easy it was for you
To claw your way out.

Every time I hear them talk about you
I perk up,
I listen closely,
My sweaty palms shake against
The firm hold I have upon my legs,
I crave you
in my mind,
in my body,
in my heart.
My body shuts off,
The need to fulfill,
The desire to breathe you in, swallow you down
This battle never seems to fade,
All by the simple sounds of your name,
I'm hooked once again.

When we first met you told me I had bad habits.
I bit my nails when I was anxious,
I bounced my knee when I did something wrong.
I wasn’t very confident.
I took your words to heart,
and I tried changing those habits.
I hoped you’d notice each time I didn’t do them,
each time an alternative arose.
As I focused more and more on pleasing you than myself,
you grew distant.
I kicked myself ****** on my own two feet.
I attempted to be strong,
strong enough to love you when you couldn’t love yourself,
but it wasn’t enough.
It took me a while to adjust once you left.
Most of those habits returned.
I grew to accept them.
The few habits I dropped for good are the ones I don’t miss.
I suppose my worst habit of all of them was
loving you.

Hiding her guilty habit,
like its something she never had.
As the day just drags,
she takes another long drag.
Inhaling all the good,
exhaling all the bad.
By covering up the hurt,
she's soothing all the sad.
Feeling alone --
the thoughts alone - drive her mad.
forgetting what she is,
wishin for things, she wish she had.
clouds of smoke taint the air,
the smokey scent hangs like a flag.
with every puff she takes --
the closer it brings her to being glad.
forgetting the stress of the moments,
from the long day she just had.
the stress wearing her smile down, like a long gown
that's looking bad
her happy thoughts dissipate
with the smoke no sign of any hope
but its passing like a fad
she puffs, as slowly she smokes
enjoying the moment for the most
its more than just smokes -
it something that dampens the fear
of what is close, next, or near
these cloud skies fill her with hope
long enough for her to not care
when people that should be close,
aren't even near, or even close to being there
all she needs is her pack --
stashed in the back,
to have her back -
until the coast is clear.
and she's back on track.

Tonight is a night for smoking.

I know it is.
The evidence is in
the music playing in my head,
the jacket of calm I'm wearing,
and the sudden slowness to my movements.

Tonight is a night for smoking,
and regret.

laugh because you burnt the toast and spilled the juice
cry because your book has come to an end
sleep when you are tired
and awaken when you are rested.
cradle your lover as if you were a child, yet again
wear old tacky sweaters that are a little too snug
and sip hot cocoa by the fire.
sing in the shower, no, perform in the shower
believe in fairytales and love at first sight
run with your dogs
and pay your bills on time.
kiss with tongue
write a song,
and then sing it on karaoke night at your favorite bar
call your family
and learn to live again.
-learn to live again // a.s.

My inner demons have looked me in the eyes for the last time yesterday.
They screamed, clawed the floor for help.
They pointed to my head, my heart and my stomach as they are all golden like they once were.
I named them all after bad habits and bad addictions.
Their eyes are red and their skin is black. They never spoke, but one of them told me in a soft voice, 'I hope it all works out for you.'
Thank you, guilt. I hope so, too.

Fingertips ******
   Dig, impose,
Pick at a crusty
   ****** nose.

O.O