Its been a while since you left,
But I never accepted you were gone.

I just pushed away the thought you,
And tried to forget those 9 months existed.

For all I remembered, the Creator made a mistake,
And time skipped right over three seasons.

But looking at our words,
I can't deny what is true.

What we left behind had more power than us both,
And so neither of us could destroy it.

And as everything is rushing back,
I don't know what to do,
Because one thing is still missing,
And that one thing is you.

It's been 6 months since it ended,
Yet it feels like 6 years.

I forced tears from my eyes,
Thinking you might return to dry them.

I forced blood from my eyes,
To make space for you in my veins.

But you didn't.
You couldn't.
You can't.
And you won't.

It was a nightmarish hope,
That a mortal soul could **** Death.

And still I'm clinging to you,
Like the ink on a note.

You're my blood that flows,
Through the artery in my throat.

How I'd love to cut you away,
Just to cease shedding tears.

But Death won't yet take me,
Death feeds off my fears.

I expected your return,
But the thought was outrageous,
'Cause the insane part of my mind,
It's proving to be ageless.

I'd beg you to return and receive no answer,
Surrounded by the air that contains a rejected request.
For some reason, the desire of temptresses,
And THC smoke are all that fills my chest.

I decided to make the cross from the bathroom to my bedroom quick.

Everyone was already sleeping so all the lights in the house were off.

As I stepped from the light to the dark I was blinded, but I knew someone else could see.

As I stood at my door a second or two to open it, I felt a presence approach.

But I rushed into my room because I'd rather not know.

I closed my door and almost locked it, then reconsidered, in case I had to get out.

My blankets and sheets were on the bed, as I had just laundered them.

I stared at the door as I made my bed, 'cause I knew something was out there.

I avoided turning my back to the door so as to not be vulnerable.

I stared at the door as I pulled the cover back and lay down.

I was turning off the light but quickly flicked my head back over, I know I heard something.

There's a wolf outside my door.
There are Wolves outside my door.
They might be feasting on the others.
I'm the only one who sleeps with the door shut.

I procrastinated turning off the light before finally accepting nothing was going to happen.

But there's still something out there, I can feel it in my spine.

There are Wolves out there waiting to consume me as soon as my eyes shut.

My flesh, my body, my soul, my entire being, my very essence, they're waiting.

I've got work tomorrow, and school as well, I have to go tomorrow.

Hell, I hate both, but if needing to go keeps me alive, I can't die now.

I'm staying awake because I want to be ready to run when the Wolves come in.

I just turned the light back on, I want to know what's around me.

But now that I think about it, I'm letting them know I'm here.

I wanted to affirm their lack of presence, but just confirmed my own.

There's Wolves,
Outside my door,
Outside my window,
Inside my closet,
Under my bed,
Inside my head,
And they won't leave,
Not until I'm dead.

Five years ago I died.
I don't know if I revived.

****, thirteen really was hard,
But it was the best played card.

Seems like every day in the past
Still continues, overlaps, and lasts.

I don't know if I'm living in the future,
Or staying behind like an immobile creature.

I don't know what happened.
I don't know what's happening.

People just come and people just go,
'Cause relative to arrival, departure is slow.

You want to see the reality of me?
Good luck finding it, if it may be.

I died five years ago.
Nobody noticed.

My mom said she loves me.
My father did, too.

I think I believed her more than him.
I think he only cares about himself.

That's were I got my **** from.
I can't say I'm better than that.

It's all I was taught.
And now it's hard to get rid of it.

I'm pretty gone, now.
Trying to get rid of some things erased me.

It was an overshot,
But it was a shot.

I say **** a lot of things.
A lot people say **** me.

But I'm not them.
They're not me.

What does it mean to be lost?
I might be, even though I thought I found my way.

I thought I stood up,
To get off the ground.

I think it was *****.
That must've been it.

But I think I just crawled into a chair.
I'm a pretty lazy guy.

From a couple feet higher,
I can see where to go.

But without my feet carrying me,
I can't go anywhere.

And though I know a lot of things,
Getting all the way isn't one of them.

I think I died one day.
It may have been five years ago.

I've met the same person eight million times.
She didn't exist.

I did a lot for her.
She was inside my head.

I did a lot for me.
'Cause I'm not quite selfless.

But I could be.
Could I be?

I don't know.
I don't know a lot of things.

It makes me unsure.
It makes me unsafe.

One day that will **** me.
If I'm still alive.

But I think I died one day.
It was maybe two years ago.

Five years ago, I wanted to die.
But only two years ago, my heart stopped beating.

It was all a process.
It was a matter of time.

'Cause no death is instantaneous,
But it happens in a single instant.

I think I still exist.
If not, there'd be no head for this to be in.

It's not all just inside my head.
That's one thing I'm sure of.

But not completely sure.
Only a little bit.

She left two years ago.
She's not here anymore.

I made a new her two years ago.
She's inside my head.

She left two years ago.
I met her seven million nine hundred ninety nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine times after.

But only for an instant each time.
Then she would always turn into another person.

I got used to the phrase.
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else."

I wished she'd come back.
But not anymore.

I died two years ago.
She'd be wasting her time here.

But maybe she wouldn't be.
She wouldn't come for me after all.

She would come for other people.
To see people that surely still exist.

Why waste time on the dead?
Better to waste time on the living.

I might not be either of them,
Since I might not exist anymore.

Or I might.
I might still be a few songs, some words on a page, and some marijuana smoke.

I don't know a lot of things.
So I can't be sure of anything.

I started dying five years ago and might have finished two.
I don't know if revived, if I ever made through.

I read one line and was amazed by what was contained in a few simple lines.
Surely she must be quite understanding, and if we were to talk,
She'd say she knows what I mean.

"Like I'm falling from a bridge, but never hitting the ground."

Maybe as she wrote it, it may not have seemed like much to her.
It could have been just another analogy, just extra words to add some syllables or fill in space.
But when I read that, I thought "Where have those words been all this time?"

That's exactly what I've been feeling for quite a time, but I hadn't said it,
I just didn't identify it until this moment, with that clarification, I'm already interested.

She must be quite one soul.

I like my *******.
I like it quite a lot.
It says more by itself,
Than I can say I've got.

It rubs my eyes,
Showing that I'm tired,
And if I'm annoyed,
"*******, I'm wired."

It says "I don't really care."
Or "You're being a ****."
It takes care of it all,
Before I can get sick.

It's quite a nice thing,
Almost says who I am,
Though there's still much more,
It nicely filters the spam.

~

There will come a time when you say, "no more,
this weight is much too heavy to bear,
these thoughts of you dancing through my mind are now painful
and seeing that far ahead is nothing more than a blur"

There will come a time when you say, "it’s over,
I do love you more than anything but I can not any longer,
you will always reside deep in my heart
though telling you will not be an option"

There will come a time when you say, "good bye,
I wish I didn’t have to leave but I must,
I will not look back even though I want to
because this hurts so badly"

There will come a time when I say "I understand",
and that will be the time that I don’t