Lying awake, still.

Pretending you are closer,

Wishing you were here.

Talking to you is God's gift
Because if I thought I had feelings I know now for sure
And when you say
You gotta go home
I hate it.

Because I don't like being alone
The music grows quiet and the food gets cold
And the night has nothing to hide anymore.
You were the reason I stayed up to see the moon.

Talk to you later, see you soon, say goodnight
But this time
I can't say goodbye.

I'm not sure why.

the air was stale with cigarette smoke
there was beer on your breath, like always it is
i gave myself away to embrace you as tight as i could
told you,
that not once these last few days did the thought ever cross my mind that i did not love you

it is three thirty in the morning as i walk and write this
still straying thoughts only to you
wherever you are at this minute
and i wish that i could be there, a part of those minutes

I don’t know myself.
Sure, I know what I like and dislike. Everyone who’s lived with themselves should know this.
But do I really know myself, just from my likes and dislikes?
Do I know how I truly act in front others?
How I act in front of myself?
Why I act in a certain way? Why I find myself happy one moment—
And then suddenly angry the next—
And then depressed the next—
And in the end—
The overwhelming,
Drowning, yet
rational feeling,
Telling me, over and over,
“No one will understand you.
Stop acting crazy.
Why are you even like this.”
No loud screaming,
No over-the-top crying,
No excessive movements.
I silently churn out feelings
In bed, with tears on the pillow
When no one else is around me.
When I’m alone
At 12:35 a.m,
Sunday.

What does your soul say through your eyes
Do they show your truth or do they show your lies
Are you really happy with yourself and your path
Or is something in the way, is it holding you back
How do you know what you feel is right
Is it when you feel less of the dark and more of the light
Is there a happy medium, like what Buddha taught
Is everything an illusion, or is that just one thought
How do we know what we really feel
How do what know what is truly real
Our souls create reality and there are so many different kinds
How many universes are we projecting with our minds
We are each a deep expression of the  universe and the divine
But if that's the case why do so many of us whine
Why can't we find the power that's within
Why do we sell ourselves short, why do we see things as sin
Karma isn't even what people think it is
They mistake it for the law of attraction, what goes around comes around, but that's not it
Karma comes at the end of life and it tallies our deeds
It's kind of like judgment day, but it's our soul it feeds
Tell me what I did, was I as good as I thought
Did I learn everything I needed to, was I righteously taught
I know I learned lessons and I know I hurt souls
But I didn't do it on purpose, I just played many roles
I taught people lessons and they taught me mine
In life we have to learn quick, we don't have much time
Our lives are short, but they sure feel long
Is loving everyone deeply right or is it wrong
The emptiness in us, it comes and it goes
Sometimes we feel dull, sometimes we glow
It's hard to be consistent when things always change
Just adapt when we need to and transcend our ways