The hurt, hurt people I know thats true
It’s just sitting in your car with you
Seeing confusion, and being cut in two halves
One half “in” conflict, the other “sane”
I obtain some hope from hearing you differ
Between what’s right, and what’s quicker
Leaning in with tears
Not always remembering our years together
Thinking we can be friends still after eight?!
How can I relate to someone like you now.....
But continually more love I feel somehow
For the wife who ran away
Snuggling up to the next guy on the way
To finding her self out

I am the abandoned son
Sun just isn’t shinning on me
Sitting in a forever shadow
Warring happy camo with a smile on that’s through and through fake
I can’t break more then I am already broken
Nothing I said I’ve misspoken
It’s what I still feel waiting for you
While I hug the pillow that still has a scent of your shampoo

A dusty road and tall pine trees on a cloudless day filters light through the trees in such a way reminding me that even dirt can be beautiful with light present.

My options are few
I honestly only have two
Wait for you......
Or don’t
The equality in pain strains my soul out of my body
Floating above myself saying “somebody help that guy”
My own soul doesn’t recognize me anymore
I’ve become a frail pale corpse of just existing
Negative purpose deeper then the surface of the hurt on my face
I positively have no place to race at the pace I use to run at.
My body is worn down to much
The chest I kept joy in before has been stolen
The X marked the spot, you hit the jackpot
Stealing away yourself, the only treasure I had
The hole that was dug created a cavity
Not one that a dentist could fill
But one that made me empty without you, my sweet Emily.
No pill or drug can take my pain away
As my soul still apart from me thinks maybe life is better this way?
A soulless existence with no feelings to have destroyed
Like a robot or just “some body” null and void

It bubbles up in my chest like a contaminated effervescent drink.
I can’t rest, I can’t think, existence is inconsistent
I am shaken and going to pop
when in this state of mind
The capitol is anxiety, it’s a city I can’t escape from for to long at a time
Even if I travel away for the day
There is no permanent solution to the strength of this pollution inside of me.

I sit in my car for hours lately, I don’t want to go inside
The house I go home to daily isn’t home
It’s drywall, siding, and a couch that me and my home use to cuddle on together
I’ve been home less because I’m homeless right now
With my cardboard box, and Help Me Please Sign
I try to make unorthodox thoughts to re design
my homelessness issue
"It's just not possible at this point in time, to realign
my mind to see loneliness as an opportunity"
I say talking to my therapist next to me
You can tell me the stages of grief, and what I will feel
I just simply cant deal with it.

The pages that I rightfully write, are to right a wrong
They are an attempt to sing a new song, a new melody
To try and shift a paradigm of my confused insanity


IT'S JUST "NOTHING MAKES SENSE" ANYMORE


Tear stains on my cheeks that you have to answer for
In sorrow for today and tomorrow and honestly for months to come
The thought of your little finger wrapped around my thumb
As our hands happily danced together, for what was supposed to be forever interlocked as we walked
But maybe "nothing" is exactly what needs to make sense
Being satisfied with nothing, is how to receive everything

Did you know that the pyramids were built with happy faces and hydrated bodies.
It’s true I wouldn’t lie to you  
Or that the the single mom down the road raised her four great kids easily on her own.
With zero fears and zero tears

Nothing is built with ease
Nothing is achieved fast
Rivers will flow from our eyes
and we pray it to pass
Screaming GOD WHY!?
But this is temporary, we are under construction
This season is not our destruction
This is just the building of a stronger structure

Ill stay on your doorstep, wait in the rain, pour my heart out again and again. Sleep this off? It’s impossible to sleep when the brain learns to run.

How many times I fall and you continue to catch me is unimaginable. The addictions I bare are tattooed on me but hidden. Yet the continual pursuit when i'm hiding things from you and the future you want to give me. The hidden is comforting to me, its simple, its cheap, it makes sense to me, it’s become a learned behavior. The hiding spot has always been dark and scary but with each passing round it becomes darker, and scarier. Something is telling me that any light there is a bad idea, and would ruin the advantages I have of it being so dark now and so hidden. You asked if you could play, and I said close your eyes and count to 10, but you already knew where I would go. The same places I have hid so many times before but I forget time and time again that you always know where to find me.

A storm before meant a day inside. But now i can only imagine rain drenched hair and dancing in puddles with my wife. You don’t know what you had until it’s gone…..
Lazy romance is worthless words and actions that are meaningless. The sender is a believer that the receiver is fooled the romance is real and thoughtful. But the rouse can only last as long as her own internal fuse. The truth of the lazy attempts become reality when the going gets tough, but the tough have processed to move on. The scar tissue on her heart knitted by the needle of my skillful hand. A hand trained over time in half heartedly loving her believing that she is feeling more love than the effort I am putting into it. What a realization of how long she stayed around during a season of drought. Thirsting for love from a well that’s been dry for way too long. How can I expect her to go to the same dry well for love after continual trips returning with parched lips. The spring I’ve been holding back has been dammed shut with brick and mortar. But brick becomes dust under the pressure of losing her forever. The love flows out onto the floor because she’s taken her bucket elsewhere for what looks like more. Laced with arsenic, and silent killers the water she’s receiving is deceiving. I am the untrustable dry well though. I have no say into where to find clean water, because I was producing poison once of my own. Even when fresh pure love returns and fills my reservoir it’s too little too late. The wife who longed for this specific well has gone and won’t take the signals to come back. It just looks like bait now, like a trick or a scam. But only if she knew that the dam holding it all back was broken that the water is pure once more.