I started smoking cigarettes again

Something about having another thing burning between my fingers

Besides your hands

Makes me dismiss the feeling that lingers 
when I think of you

Since I can’t have your taste in my mouth

Menthol will have to do

I am addicted 

Isn't this sounding familar?
You **** me inside starting with my lungs

Like the small nicotine sticks do with every inhale

I would much rather your slender fingers in my hand

But for $10 a pack they last around a lot longer than you do 

No matter how much you rot me from the inside out

A piece of me will always be yours

Always

he searches though i am not lost
he worries when i am not close
he fears what keeps me away

though i am with him always
though he is my calm sea
though my heart lays within him

I've been staring at this page
and switching through
my blog & music tabs
trying to find the words
to say this thing
but nothing comes to mind
because no words are strong enough
there are no expressions, no metaphors
to say these things
and how much i miss you
but want to hit you repeatedly as well

what is left after a tornado?
only **** turned upside down
and i'm not afraid to say that
you were always the tornado
and i was always trying to
rebuild myself after you came
and teared me down
sank me to the ground

and for years i've blamed myself
for all the times i cried were
for nothing
because you were absent
you didn't hear me out
and i was left there to bleed
between tears and trashed papers
on my room's cold ground
through winter and summer
because you were ******* gone
you ******

if metaphors could paint me
slamming the door shut and
sliding my back down the wall
dramatically, all dramatic, as if
i was in a movie
that'd be it
me curling into fetal position
and wishing to disappear
me screaming and hitting the wall
with ****** knuckles
because you're still gone and
not coming back.

there's no poetic way to say
that i feel like ****, that i want to
hug you and maybe die a little
drown in alcohol until i'm throwing
up again, like the other night,
and try to forget you and all my pain
that's nothing more than that:
pain.

my body has begun
to bear the weight
you've put on my mind

i don't know how i got
these scratches and bruises
but i'm blaming you

it's easier that way

oh if only you knew
i would give anything
anything to be
anything other than me

freckled knees
freckled shoulders
freckled arms

"why are you so pale?
you look like you're dead
have you tried getting a tan?"

the irony stings my burned shoulders,

yes i have tried.

yellowed bruises remain on my thighs,
the thighs that got me called fat
in the seventh grade

"have you ever noticed
she's kinda fat? i mean
her thighs are so big,
they're like thunder thighs"

and from that statement a nickname was coined
that caused me to desperately,
desperately,
need to be skinnier
and i'll never be enough

"darling, are you okay?
please take this
go home and eat a big dinner
the wind is going to blow you away!"

i don't think i can ever win

i think you're perfect
but i don't think we would be
your personality is softer
but your feelings and actions
are much harsher

if i were raised a little less like my mother
wanted me to be
showing me what not to do
as she placed the cigarette between her lips
maybe we would have been more alike

i know your internal struggles and feelings
all too well
as they are ones i've experienced before
and experience now

although your friends problems seem
all too real
as compared to mine
which are all in my head

in two year's time
you won't remember
my favorite color
or my favorite food

in five year's time
you won't remember
the texture of my hair
or the feel of my skin

in ten year's time
you won't remember
my name or my hair color
except that they were both odd

in fifteen year's time
you won't remember
exactly what i looked like
(were her eyes blue or green?)
except that you thought i was pretty

in twenty year's time
you won't remember
me at all

except when you're hanging out at the bar
with the guys from work
and you talk about young romance
and you say
"there was once this girl,
but i can't remember
her name"

Some people just drink it all away,
and sure you can misfire but we all die sooner or later.
This is a small part of an ongoing stand up routine
that ends in personal self destruction. I’ll continue.
I am my own voice, and I consume that which
over time has become redundant in uselessness.
I stand horizontally between two extremes;
Somewhere between “not quite invincible”
and “rancid with mortality”. Conscious effort,
and I play the fool who reasons with serpents
by keeping no literal distance.
A shape into itself. No thread in the needle’s eye.
A cloud that eats clouds.
A saint to anyone that would worship in a mirror.