Call upon the troubadours
who are unaware of the telephone:
to them it was ghosts coming through on wires.
Darkness empowered imagination,
and light caused it to surrender.
Now I ask, "How's the weather?"
And you bring up the past.

The fire that still burns between us
extinguished by time.
Time has this rotting effect--
when a clock can be reconstructed,
but never turned back.

Used to be in lust,
but I just say fine
the only time I meant it was
when you were mine,
living inside my mind.

They sent me away in April
when we stopped talking completely-
I saw you outside my barred windows
looking out upon the horizon
met with kisses from the pavement.

My vertigo didn't plague me anymore,
when all I wanted was to soar.

They reintroduced us inside a paper cup,
you were blue, white, and green.
Tasted of nothing,
there again,
self-immolation seemed like something out of a movie scene.

Saw you in my dreams,
but never awoke with you next to me.
You were never watching over me in the mirror reflection.
You stopped coming, ending the affection.

I'm still wondering where you've gone,
when I was released
they said you'd take your time
but perhaps with the changing chemicals running amuck
in my brain,
you'd show me a sign?

I had to let some out,
I'm an emotional person without a doubt.
I don't see crying as a bad thing, an outlet literally for the bad things to come out.
I'm serious, it's an outlet.
It's no okay thing to let those bottled things make you hollow.
Upset and sorrow,
one can last a night and the other could carry on tomorrow.
You could either refuse your pride to chew or take your dose of pride and swallow.
I don't believe a tough person never goes through the motions,
For toughness is the willingness to bend but not break from the emotions.
And crying is to bend, freaking out is to break.
Freaking out is waiting too long to accept what you couldn't take and keeping straight.
This is a point, it's firm and sharp belief of mine,
A rule of life clearly defined,
A bright and bold crossing line.
And others may not see it, that much I know already.
And yet I notice those ones often become unsteady,
this is a life issue, something that we each need to resolve,
something for each of us to handle and even get a friend involved.
Or at least me, if not that I don't know what I'm here for,
that's at least what I think of a friend,
please note that I'm still yours.

Running, painting, smoking, ***, drinking, writing, reading, socializing... the fufillment these outlets give me are temporary. These dark thoughts within me are forever.