Sobriety is what keeps me tethered
That which forces to remember
Lost causes covered in failed attempts
At this life, at my life
While inhaling to forget
High above reality
Living each day by a dime
Until life is but a suggestion
And I'm back to where I started

Maybe when I'm
Drunk and vulnerable
I'll confess it all.

Like how I love you
And the way you smile
When you tell me about
A good day you've had.

Or how I could never
Tell you I'm in love  
With you sober

Because I know you don't
Feel the same and I
Can't bare to take the pain.

you want to know
why he's depressed.
he made a shell distant from his sobriety
and lost touch with any sense of piety.

Tis' a pity, tis' a pity, he becomes
a poor fool, passes away prior to full potential
knows only money and *** to be essential,
and knows nothing on how to deal with the consequential.

fell in love too early
only to know it's too late.
no promises to rectify,
no vows to testify,
only his broken brain left to crucify.

a battered body broken down in battle
with the world around him
and the war within him.
love is thy kryptonite,
drugs are thy dynamite,
left to implode
in the world he created.

he lays in his head, he lies in his head,
he has died in his head,
and thus makes this death.

he lives in everyone's life,
knows not one of his own,
only knows the boundaries of his zone.

Tis' not one of comfort, only discomfort
this man is me.
this man is me.

see my red blood leak on the ledger,
my life flow away like a lost feather,
hang me loose on the tether.
to see sunrise again after tonight?

no please,
never.

i keep thinking about this poem in my head
i cannot remember a thing
even though i live in my head

bloodshot eyes are all i see
looking straight in the mirror, lost at sea
keep thinking i will see you again
knowing the answer is "never again"

i still don't know a thing
about this world
keep thinking everything i hear
are lies that are told,
that everyone is out to get me, like a tower of cards
left to stumble and fold.
that people only care for them selves, even though
they always told me
two people can make one's self.

if life is truly survival of the fittest
then my life is a jacket that could never really fit
i outgrew it before i was born
a shame, a shame
i am a shell of who i used to be, i am a lame on the street.
after you died, nothing can ever be the same.

the love we cherished
at fifteen, will stay with me till fifty.
god forbid, it is 2016, here i am thinking
i would never live past 2015.

i am gone, i am dead
whatever you hear from me is posthumous
being written from the troughs in Heaven's den
lost and forgotten, look around, see.
the rock of Sisyphus
weighs heavy on the walking posthumous
they are gone, they are dead, they push on.

i hear them say, rest in peace.
hope they will say the same,
when i find reprieve
at the bottom of the sea.

i cannot die.
not yet, at least.
not when i'm capable of so much more love,
when i have so much to give before i end up above.

you once told me,
that seven was your favorite number.
lucky number seven.
but what could be so lucky about death?
i read that before one dies,
seven minutes of brain activity remains
and in their head, a snapshot of their life replays.

all i can hope is to be
just in one second of that story
to be part of your entrance into heaven and glory
to be the final lullaby lulling you to sleep
to be in the last breath you exhaled deep

i remember
the day of your funeral.
being embraced
in your mother's arms,
and that if there was ever a time
to be
forgiven,
to stay
strong,
it was now.
that a look of comfort,
and not saying anything
is all i could do.
and that the way we held each other,
maybe no one could tell who was comforting who.

i remember,
shaking your father's hand
like i still had to give him
respect,
for coming up with you, for making one half of you
BEING HELD IN HIS ARMS THE WAY HE USED TO DO WITH YOU

no one knows
about the times i almost became a father
how close we were
to ******* it all up.
how your father would **** me if i made you a father
how if we went to "Maury,"
i would be the only one in history to jump up in celebration,
as he says,
"you are the father!"

i'm just
happy
i experienced everything with
you.

people tell me recently that i speak like their father
and after having shook the hand of one of the greatest fathers i ever met,
i know that i will be ready to be a father.
that with or without you, i will never forget you.

i'm just
sad.
i can't get on one knee and propose to you,
time how long it would take for you to say "I do."
i won't know if it'll take seven seconds or less,
just know i gave you my
best.

i'm just
i'm just really missing you.
the lessons you gave me at seventeen,
will last until i'm seventy.

for last, i hope
i hope
that my last seven minutes of life,
will be spent listening to the sound of your voice,
bleeding slow in me as a gentle knife.

With your touches
My skin ignites
In your clutches
We made memories that night

The feeling of your lips
Carved onto my nape
As my fingertips
Traced your shape

I felt your breath
Your whisper of air
I didn't think of death
As you played with my hair

You were vulnerable
Honest, clingy and warm
You were unstable
You were like a storm

I felt the warmth of another
Through your embrace
Cozy turned to bother
Because of your gaze

You stared at mine
With those burning eyes
I knew in my mind
That your words are nothing but lies

You professed your passion
You spoke of love and devotion
You declared your affection
I'm afraid that its been heard by the wrong person

If only you were mine
And those words were for me
Then everything would've been fine
And I would have the right to be happy

As our hands intertwined
We bid adieu to night
You were momentarily mine
As we welcomed tomorrow's light

Thanks for the momentary happiness
That you won't even remember
Because during that lonely night
You were drunk and I was sober