Goodnight mother
goodnight friends
goodnight moon
and all loose ends
goodnight pets
goodnight dad
goodnight lover
you were all i had

Make me your masterpiece,
sculpt me and contort me into the man you need,
give me your chisel, ill do it myself

You turned your back on me while i had my chest exposed to you,
how was i supposed to know you had been craving a different kind of drug?
you were pure hard drugs everyone else is a substitute,
i can still feel you in my veins
i am addicted,
you are heroine,
they are suboxone,
you are an american spirit,
they're a nicotine patch,
you are moonshine,
they're a non-alcoholic beer,
you are the way the sun warms the grass on a summer day,
they are a wooden stove,
you are a freshly baked cookie,
they are a day old discount pastry,
you are an angel dipped in gold,
they are a ****** statue spray painted black,
nothing on this earth could amount to the sight of your smiling face and wrinkled nose,
trying to describe you with words in a poem is an insult to you,
nothing could ever accurately depict the heavenly being that you are,
but, oh God, i'll try although it falls upon deaf ears.

When I was young, home was a place
Now, Home is a heart
Everything was simpler,
When I was young,
I used to drink hot cocoa for the warmth,
Now its the whisky that burns my throat,
When I was young my idea of fun was climbing,
Now, it's falling,
When I was young, I thought love and happiness were the same,
I know now that they aren't,
When I was young, I wanted things that were bad for me,
Now I need them.

I will always be in love with you
You are my only one
Like Icarus to the sun
I got ahead of myself and got burned
My love has been engulfed in flames
Thinking, but not with my brain

The glass bottle feels better against my lips
than you ever did

I am not a poet
I am not an eloquent man with a pen in my hand letting it dance along the pages in a captivating dance
It is a stop and go, stumbling and tripping over feet out of beat awkward hobble
I am not a creative person spilling my soul onto the pages like blood from a stab wound
I am a scab that keeps getting reopened small bursts of blood and healing and bleeding all over again
I am not in touch with my inner self i can't tell you how im feeling right now
i am a smooth hard rock weathered from years of wear
i am not a poet, i am a child writing stories