I can't see my self in this head space.
I need the constant rhythm, I need to keep time
But this clock doesn't have a second hand.

My "living in the now" is everyone else's nostalgia.
I always feel like I'm living two years in the past.
I guess that's how long it takes to absorb the impact
When the collision is head on.

When I was younger I was always told I was mature for my age.
Thank you, it's the abuse.
Thank you, it's the ****.
Thank you thank you, it's the trauma.

I'm not being honest,
I'm being truthful.

Endless self indulgence,
And selflessness with an end.
I can't bring myself to be productive,
What a production.
Too old to be old enough for this.
I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to be the villain.

I can dish it out,
But I can't take it.
You can tell me how vile,
I already know that I am.

I  can't seem to turn this potential energy into kinetic.
What do they call a speeding ticket when you're going too slow?
It's equally dramatic and pathetic.
I know it's not right, but I try not to think about you.
It's unfortunate the mind doesn't have more concrete limitations.

I will always remember
The night
When I reached out to
Kiss You
And
With that kiss
I
   made
              you
                      mine....

I don’t want to lose myself...
                              
                                 ­      loving you.

Why would I ever hurt you with lies...
    
         When the truth is already killing you.

dear you,

i’m in love.
yes. you were
waiting, i
bet, for this.
this time, though,
it is not
what you would
think. it’s me
this time, not
you, although
it’s still you,
but not in
the way it
used to be
you. it’s my
fault this time,
my doing,
my painful,
pitiful,
suffering.
it’s you in
the sense that
i cannot
control you.

this time,

it’s your mind and your thoughts
the things that slip off of your tongue
the words you put, pencil to paper
the ideas that come out in your songs

it’s your eyes and your sight
the careful observation of beauty
the need to bask in warm, pure light
the stare you give me, rarely now

it’s your movements and your touch
the hugs where you grip my shoulders
the times where i’m drunk and playing with your fingers
the warmth you give off and your gorgeous smile

none of them
are mine to
have, to take
to keep, to
love, to break

i miss you
and to go
and detach
to break what
we have, that’s
the hard way
out. but i
am trying
to help me.

i feel the
same way i
did when you
said i was
wrong about
this. about
how i feel.

i’m hoping
disposing
myself of
you, means that
the dreams will
go away
too. but if
they stay,
i’ll give you
a quick call.
probably
a text, to
be honest.

i love you,
unhealthily,
with every
part of me.

keep in touch,
please.

love,

me.