and we are a broken generation,
I explain,
where the scars that mar our heart,
match the scars that mar our skin,
and we cut away at feelings,
feelings that make us unsatisfied,
with who we are,

and im raising up orphans,
when the home I know becomes an collection of strangers .

and I'm giving them water
but there is poison in this well.
and they are set on this desire to carve out more,
more time.
more space.
more love.
more energy.
more. more.more.

I'm taking a melon scraper to my insides,
trying to rid myself of baggage getting in the way of what you want,
and what I want for you.

I take the tags from the hook
I place it over my head it finds its spot
Right next to my beating heart,

When Iwake in the morning this
These tags the only link to your excistance,
But that can't be true,
That isn't true.

5 freckles across
And a few down,
I touch the scar like a dog ear ,
To mark history,
Like history Irepeat myself,
Mantras in my head pleading and repeating,
I circle  and dot things that have been eating me up
Hoping for the courage to finish true thought,
But the demons of fear that find me can't be bought,
And Ibegin  to play memories over and over,
Of times when you were here.

and I'm forever saying good bye,
and inventing new ways too,
and here you go again on your next big adventure,
saying your always safe,
but that's lying, your lying,
I can only guess what dangers stock you in the dark,
and the demons that plague you,
i dont know what plagues you,
you make them laugh,
im sure you do,

I'm inventing new ways to say goodbye,
and I just don't really want to do it this time.

and I sit you stand,
there's water racing down to the tile,
I wonder what the water gets to feel,
your dripping but you don't seem to mind,
you shudder and I look away,
I am afraid  to touch you,
I'm not sure I know how,
darkness cloaks the world outside,
but I still see you,
broken,
bruised,
bleeding,
you seem to shadow the things I hide,
and use this love you will,
but I don't breathe when you touch me,
I cant formulate thought,
I want to save you but I 'm drowning in emotion,
not enough for what you need,
you say,
nonchalantly,
"*******. m.e."
I tell you I haven't.
though I imagine she's a nice girl.
I avoid the command choosing to ignore your desire,
and squander  mine,
I don't know how to love you,
I just do,
why would you stay if it was in your power,
you opened a door,
I closed it, to afraid of the feelings that lurk,
on the edges of this fragile heart,
i keep you in the almost pile,
and maybe i was just your draft,
and under a starlit sanctuary,
with only hands to guides us maybe we too could be among,
the lost things.

"and you don't know what I look like,
when I'm not in love with you."

how true is that for me,
there are days I remember so clearly,
no dry eyes, wise guy,
but you and me i see what we were,
what I thought we'd become to be,
and other days I gaze out not understanding what it was that brought me there,
not understanding the who and was when I was with you,
how did i feel so complete when you were completely lacking,
im not talking about the things you warned me you were packing,
but what it was that ate at you,
dry bones,
and whiskey,
i don't know how you could have left me,
i supported the world you ran,
and i am just another atlas carrying around the boulder of a lost lover,
roll over.
turn over.
start over.
over and over,
these are the things that play strings on my heart beat,
and my hearts beating,
no thanks to you.
I'm left with mashed potato memories,
lines across my lips, of lies you left there for me.

my body a home best lived in.
babe, my  body is a home best lived in.
worn and weathered,
it sways,
dancing in the wind storms,
bowing at snow flakes that pile on,
I shudder, I moan,
like me this house is living,
it breathes hot air in the summer months,
takes purchase of the rain,
it takes whats given,
you mend,
I leak,
I shatter,
my boards squeak, protesting your arrival,
but you aren't put off by the walls i raise,
you fix my windows wipe the mist that streams,
you serenade me with your sorrows,
you lament I cave,
you know my crooks,
youve etched the crannies,
you drop the glass,
you carve out space,
you box up my insides,
making it a more convient display,
Is that what this is? Is that what Ive become?
A convenience store home,
in which you hope to barter,
with a smile or a touch with a slip of kindness,
an I.O.U. of commercialized grace,
If my love was a stream, you'd bottle it up and send it to another factory to be, another product,
of a good conquest,
I'm just another good conquest,
what have you gained?
o my... what have I lost?
what do I have left of me?
have you seen my broken pieces?