this is the moment i write about you
when i've already drank enough
and i find it really hard to write the right words

through these wrongful steps
i come to say that i'm alright
and practically over you

not completely alright
i still have many exhausts
which are gonna hurt me eventually
- not in a sentimental way, at least

but yeah
i'm managing my way
through being a single guy at his 20s
even though nobody's ever taught him
anything about it

i was thinking about this today
the last girl i tried to get along with
was one year younger than me
and she was 17

now i'm 21
and i'm completely hopeless in what concerns
getting to talk to girls

but i don't feel bad
- even though i've dreamt about you last night

and i'm alright
and i truly hope you are as well
and i hope you'll read this eventually
and feel better

i'm gonna get over with alcohol
- i don't put my word on the line,
  but i swear i'll try

fare thee well
i hope you send me boots of spanish leather
(and i hope you get the reference, hahahah)

i remember
the sun beaming down on my back
as the wind blew through the tall green grass
the hot air creating a sweat on my brow
running through the field to the large tree
in the middle
climbing up high to view the neighborhood
as few others had seen it this way

i remember
riding down the large hills
on my bright green bike
feeling the wind rush through my auburn hair
feeling the breeze rush through my chest
faster and faster i would try to go
to get the feeling of flying
and oh, how i wanted to stay

i remember
coming inside from playing
to hear yelling and screaming
from deep within the house
and a deep, sharp noise, a leg through a closed door
"is this what you want?
did you want them to hear?"
i hoped for it to stop

i remember
my father coming over for easter dinner
and getting a little too much alcohol
and yelling at my mother
for turning us against him
"what do they know?
they're just kids!
stupid, young kids"

i remember
in the corner of the playground
where he used to play with me
a game i didn't understand
and wouldn't for a while
until he got caught
by an older student
and expelled

i remember
meeting him again at another playground
where you asked me
with a smirk on your face
"do you remember our game?"
i lied straight to your face
and told you i did not
but i really can't forget

i remember
the first time i felt ugly
looking in my full length mirror
in my purple painted room
i was seven
and just about to have another growth spurt
and had packed on weight for the transition
and my mother told me it will be okay

i remember
the yellow roses
planted outside the living room window
that bloomed once in the spring
then faced a terrible storm
and were never quite the same again
but they always tried to grow

Drugs are no different from the love you show me
Hot nights, cold showers, cheap hotel rooms
Walk into the musty air on the second floor
Fall into unknown cities and drunk strangers
weliveonforever weliveonforever we live on
and the sun never seemed so bright
the sky is purple tonight
maybe my words are just slurs through the alcohol
my teeth can't speak
we live. on. forever.

I have this song on repeat hoping that if I listen to the words enough times the sting that each syllable has would be less apparent. Instead I'm find myself laying in a bed of nails, wishing I could rewind and go back and say sorry over and over until my throat cracked and bled. Even then id wheeze the words because the words need to be bled. I can't escape this quiet little storm and I'm stuck on the eye wishing I never said goodbye in the first place. I convinced myself that I was poison and you had taken me and I was afraid of watching the beautiful pettles in my hand brown and decay. I guess I'll never find the true reason I had to walk away. I tried to say "I love you" but all that came out was "goodbye" my eyes widened because it felt as if a ghost stabbed my throat with the word. I sat for too long in the darkness of my room contemplating whether it was my selfish attitude or my fear of never being good enough for you. I stopped counting the days after I stopped feeling and the numbness pumped into my body and I got addicted. Every new girl just fed the addiction because id feel nothing when it wasn't you. It doesn't matter how much alcohol I'd poured directly onto my lungs I could never drown the memory of you. I hate this, I hate myself. Why did I say goodbye. I spend my time punching mirrors hoping the broken shards will cut deep enough to bleed out all this emptiness

But now I'm staring into beautiful hazel eyes, not a single thought forming in my head. My heart screaming words and my body flushes with feelings I haven't felt in months, maybe years. I can't believe it took so long to realize that those eyes are the only things keeping me grounded. Whenever I'd go to sleep I could feel your breath on my neck and I'd wake up with a wet pillow. But that doesn't matter anymore because I have you. I have you in my arms and I'm never letting go. I'm happy, I'm feeling, I love you and I'm never letting go. I will still scream I'm sorry into the bathroom mirror hoping my reflection will Crack because I know I don't deserve a second chance. I know I deserve you and you deserve to be happy so I will work hard to make you strong and protect you. I can't believe I forgot what love like this felt like, but I guess no one else can love me like this but you. I could never bleed enough thank yous for letting me crawl back into your life, you're the only thing that occupies the space in my head. I love you more than it could ever be said. I'm never giving up and I promise I will grind down my bones and tear my flesh apart before I ever say goodbye again. I love you. I'll say it over and over. Every time I say I love you while looking into your eyes it feels like a crack in my heart seals back together. Everytime I see you in feel a slice in my lungs close back up. You're my everything and I'd give up anything to keep you for the rest of this life and the next

is it possible to get sick from sadness?
i feel like i'm going to throw your name up all over my shoes
and my heart is convulsing.

there's fluid in my lungs that's making me drown and
maybe it's all of my crying that's finally done me in.

i never knew that burning myinsides with alcohol was
such a lovely way to forget that you existed.

except even then my brain conjures images of you
lying on the trampoline and laughing at the
sky.

and no matter how hard i try i can't get the smell of your skin
out of my ******* nose and lungs.

it's God-awful and i'd rather die knowing that you used to love me
than live knowing that you love somebody else.

he says im still his baby girl,
no matter how old i get.
but does he not see my eyelashes caked with mascara,
my lips painted red.
is he oblivious to the cigarettes laying on the porch,
does he not detect the stench of alcohol on my breath.
the lacy lingerie, the boys, the parties, is it all a blur to him.  
the baby girl i once was,
the girl who wore pink and white,
who played princess,
the one who picked daises,
who smiled with shiny buck teeth.
the one who had eyes of innocence and purity,
she was killed.
she is gone.
dead. disappeared. deceased.
FOREVER.
why can't he accept that,
why can't he grasp that fact,  
that i will never be his baby girl again.

Friends are like parents
who hold us
when our steps falter.

Friends are like siblings
great to fight with
great to celebrate with.

Friends are like mirrors
they never let you
fool yourself.

Friends are like the weather
your personal sunshine
on a rainy day.

Friends are like make up
they always make you
look better.

Friends are like alcohol
they always
put you on a high.

CHEERS TO FRIENDSHIP...

A light pulsing memory
drenched in acid and alcohol
Each pulsing wave hits my heart
like the bass from October's start

The dim sounds of sadness
echoed inside
and my life was put aside
I realized there is more
to our lives

our first kiss may as well have been our first kiss goodbye.
I’m drowning tonight,
hand me a baguette and wine.
Jack, Jim, all of their friends,
been workin on me,
but can’t you see,
I can’t drink you away?
Not tomorrow, certainly not today.

You said our love was true,
now I’d like to be downing something,
something with a strong alcohol proof.

It's only been one day
How am I gonna survive 29 more with out you
Just one day and I caved
I have no idea how I'll get through
No **** no pills
Only alcohol, that does nothing good
The drink only kills
As long as your gone nothing well be as it should

there is a girl in your bed,
her jewelry tossed to the nightstand
because you were careless in the dark
ankles peeking out from the sheets,
hair splayed out like a painting, wild and frozen in the moment
of some unknown dream,

and you want it not to matter,
you said that it was simple, that it was just
*******

when you pressed your hand flat against her back and
rammed your teeth together in overeager kisses
and grinned in lazy triumph
when she sighed in your mouth,
you said,
“don’t worry, this doesn’t mean a thing”

you collected phrases to armor
the cavity in your chest
“it’s just ***”
“nothing to talk about”
“i don’t feel anything”

but she stayed the night,
pale light from the window is tracing where you’ve kissed;
her bony shoulders, the freckles that collar her throat,
the purple-red bruise you left just below her right ear
now blossoming so much more beautiful
than the alcohol and the night would ever
let you dream up

there is a girl in your bed
and you ache with how it matters.

I walk a mile barefoot on hot coals to share one smile with those
crying: I take a tear seriously, feel it as it is my own,
I take their burdens on, personally.
To empathize relate with a downtrodden Sot
to feed one bowl to a worried mind
of new horizons, is my destiny.
I get high!
One smile is way more better
than all the dope I smoked.
All the alcohol.

Upon finding pictures of you ex-boyfriend kissing his new girlfriend

        1) Remind yourself why the relationship ended. Do not forget the weight in your chest that you felt when he slipped away in such a secular way, he was only doing what his friend was encouraging.
2) When you skin is itching for his touch, think of how his fingers burned holes in your skin. Look at the scars but do not stare at them, they are only proof that you have gotten stronger, do not think about the sensation of the drawn out flame. You never imagined that torching your flesh would feel so freeing.
3) You will wonder what she tastes when she kisses him. If he tastes like whsikey or chap stick or both. You will wonder what his lips feel like because you never got to experience them, do not think about this for too long, this will only lead you to bring it up in your conversation. This happens far too often than it should.
4) When you are not expecting it, though you never are, and you see the passion in his face towards her, remind yourself that he once claimed to love you. Even if he did not mean it, imagine that if you ever were to kiss him he would have kissed with the same devotion.
5) Think of how he never loved you past midnight. Lost slippers and love affairs in the aroma of alcohol or curfews. He tried and so did you but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes that's just the way it goes.
        6) When you think you are over him, have fooled yourself that this is concludes your tear stained pages, convinced that you will not answer his call. Remind yourself that you will, but do not mistake desire for love, because though he may call, you are not the only one in his recents, think of the picture of him kissing his new girlfriend and though it may break you, it will help you not to get wrapped up in the thought that he might actually miss you too.

there's me looking
at life and western society
100 years from now -
and how ******* ridiculous it
will seem 100 years
from now...
how: the spirit of the times
(zeitgeist)
                 will continually
attack the congregation...
how a Napoleon will shape and shave democracy
         a ******
         a Mao,
                                         i call them
the courageous men -
                viral infections - otherwise
suited and booted to be D.C. comic
spokespeople - and isn't that a carnival.
spend your words in Las Vegas....
because that's where they're worth a
betting chip.... sometimes your
people only understand a monetary probing
differential - when the good-life
aquatic centres close does the job -
that's when the panic does the: knickers off routine.
working your way from the Antichrist's
zeitgeist: spirit of the times...
into the spirit of the untouchables...
then came the Wahhabi's with:
sounds of tornadoes and earthquakes was
the touchstone of liking music with a Satanic ******...
what a bunch of wankers....
therefore worthy prohibition...
that's the last time i hear them sing on the mosques'
minarets... they sing no more...
they can state their case without a call to prayer,
if they're puritan Wahhabi...
call to prayer without song... go on...
abstain from music... get to grips with a mad Iranian....
who loves poetry, music and alcohol...
never thought the Saudi nobles brokered and
subsequently broke all the Koranic laws:
have you heard the familiar law: the rich
are allowed all the laws to be kept and be broken?
what the poor get? as jesus said:
justice is a Catholic association with god -
omni- etc., it gets to see, given it was once blind;
dynamism of hellish pursuits ensues -
then the jokes, then the choking, and after that?
chestnuts.

What tore us apart?
Was it the drugs?
You were always high on something.
Or you going out with a different girl every night?
You never slept alone.
You told me once you loved me,
I felt your breath fan my ear
And it felt like butterflies were roaming my stomach
But it took the breath from the kiss
For me to realize it was only the alcohol talking.
Was it the alcohol that tore us apart?
You were always drunk.
I didn’t care that you were 21
I didn’t care you’d been to prison
And I didn’t care that you could go back.
I tried to save you,
Tried to help,
But you were too far gone.
The sad thing is,
It took me too long to realize
That you didn’t want to be saved.
I almost destroyed myself for you.
Maybe it could have been different
Had we both been sober.
Sometimes it felt as though
You wanted me to let you go
But I refused to do such a thing
And I refused to leave you
Just like everyone else had.
Even though you ignored me
For days at a time
With no explanation
And it made me so mad
That I’d hit the wall
Until my hand was numb,
And my knuckles were purple.
Even though every time you went
To your probation officer
It made me so nervous
That I could have puked.
Even though you were bad for me
I wanted to be the good thing
That you actually tried for.
I cried for ages it seemed
When I realized it would never be that way.
Because how do you know
What you want to try for
When you’re so drunk
That you can’t stand?
Or so high,
That you can’t think straight?
Or maybe,
So far gone in someone else
That all you can see is them underneath you?
I’d still like to know which it was
That ruined us first
Or if it was a combination of it all.
But most of all,
I want you to look back
And realize that you lost
The one that would’ve stuck by you
Through anything.
No matter what happened.
Although I wish you
The best of luck with her.
I do ask you,
Not to come back
If she leaves when times get tough.

Wrote this back in 2013... Wanted to bring it forward to today, August 22,  which would have been Layne Stayley's 50th Birthday.


It was simple at first
I did it on a dare

There's a certain easiness
to difficult dares
when senses are dulled
by alcohol and fame

show me how
that color tastes

It was like
biting into the sun
it burned my tongue
and nothing else
would ever taste the same
or be the same
it calmed the storm
of daddy leaving
it was as if my
new found Catholicism
was a purgatory from where
I could see the bright white
pearly gates of heaven
and feel the chill
of their snow clad bars

colder than
the coldest winter chill

one night in a dream
my father told me
to meet him at the gates
and from that point
I went every night
but he never came
instead he died
and when he died
my dreams died
with him.

bury me softly
in this tomb

I continued to go there
night after night
I desperately wanted
to believe the gates
would lead to heaven
because in hell there's heat
and this place was cold
so cold with no sound
and no light only darkness

I would sit in the cold
for hours, losing all sense
of time, obligations
responsibilities, shivering
and sweating at the foot of
the gates, obsessed with the
furry luster of frozen pearls
the sound of silence and
the subtle shifting of
the weather

holding rare
flowers in bloom

a week, a month
a year would pass
the snow began to slip
in clumps and tumble
to the ground again
and again and again
and then
all hell broke loose
the heat was hot
the gates were gone
and I began to run
but

every path
led me to nowhere

the blue cold went red hot
and then turned black
I tried to leave that place
13 times I left and
13 times returned
there was nowhere else to go
no place to call home
I burned within my sick head

I wanted to peel
the skin from my face

so hot
I was bleeding for you
soaked in sweat
my calloused heart
would not ask for help

serenity
was far away

my hands were bruised
from breaking rocks all day
far from the chill
I couldn't remember
anymore anyway
so desperate
for a glimpse of snow
it all came down
to this

I could not live apart
from that place
and I could not live
within it

so tonight

I will marry the two
the here and the now with
the there and the then

mix the snow with the fire
mix the snow add the fire
mix   snow  with    fire
mix   snow  add    fire

snowfire
      
snowfire
      
snowfire

momma
I am burning
momma I am cold
mother please save me
don't leave me alone
I see you but
you've come too late
can you hold me anyway?
whisper in my ear
I'm so sorry mother
I haven't bathed in 2 weeks
momma come hold me please

I'm down in a hole mother
feeling so low mother

I'm so cold mother
come save me
take me home
mother
I am dying

mommy
I am dead
sit with me
in silence
sit with me
I am dead

mommy I'm scared

black is all I feel
so this must be how it feels
to be free*

mother
I am dead

In Memory of Layne Stayley
born August 22, 1967 died April 5, 2002
Re-Dedicated today on what would have been his 50th Birthday..

They all have opinions
on how I "let" boys treat me.
Why I shouldn't be crying,
or trying so hard. Why I shouldn't
stand for it when they stand me up
after saying they'd meet me.
And then they get angry
when I don't tell them anything.

I'm so ******* sorry
that the boys don't treat me
like I'm a queen,
but look at them telling me I'm stupid
to run back to them.

Look at them telling me
to cop myself on when I'm already crying,
to get my act together
when I already hate myself.

It's a vicious cycle, the boy breaks me—
they tell me I'm backward,
dig me a hole and make me feel bad.
Then I'm lonely, want someone
to hold me,
whether it's alcohol, coke or
to press my lips to a cigarette
or the same boy either
that split my heart in two.

Here's the thing girls,
I don't deserve better. All I
want is to be let suffer in private.
I don't deserve someone
who thinks I'm his world,
and if a boy did that I couldn't act right.

"One last all or nothing chance"
That's what my father said when my mother came home with divorce papers
He looked at me with tears down his face and I felt an ache in my chest
The kind of ache that makes you tense up and hold your breath
I've waited since the 4th grade for them to end their marriage
Sometimes I used birthday wishes and single stars to make it come true
Watching my home crumble under the weight of alcohol and pride
The smell of regret and deflection
"It's not my fault"
"I'll change this time"
"I can't lose you guys"
Blaming my father even though my mother can be the match that starts the flame
The small nudge off the cliff
Marriage takes two
Two people to love
Two people to hate
Two people to leave stains of blood on walls where photos should be
Two people to scream ****** ****** that takes the space where laughter should be heard
Nothing really matters anymore
I search for love the way my parents search for an argument
First someone says something dangerous
Something that gets the others heart racing
And then they sort of fall into it
Creating a numbness around their hearts
Not fully seeing the picture
Blinded by words
I fall in love the way my parents hate
I get lost in what she says
I let her words destroy the outer shell around my heart
I let her see me vulnerable
I allow her to break me down simply because what she says breaks my heart in the most beautiful way possible
I watch my parents fall out of love as I let myself fall into it
Because what is love without pain
Without the feeling of air leaving your lungs
"One last all or nothing chance"
And we allow it
We let in the pain like a familiar feeling
We let in love like we let in change
And I will fight for a love that is unlike my parents
I am not a product of their love
I am not a victim of their hate
I am everything they wouldn't allow in their hearts
Unconditional love

Hahaha hi it's almost two am here and I know I should probably clean this paint mess I did and go to sleep but I don't want to. I feel like I'm drunk, like my heart is palpitating and my head is spinning and I'm struggling to type these words because my hands and my feet and face are numb right now and I don't know why because I haven't drank alcohol in months.

I just finished watching the meteor shower and I didn't bother making a wish because deep inside I know what I'd wish for and I think the asteroids knew it too- how wouldn't they, I talk about you every night.

Then I decided to finish this painting I started because I thought "hey, maybe this time I'll stick with something." And I did finish it and even though it's a girl, it has your eyes and your favorite colors and now I want to rip it and throw it away. Hahaha

This *****. You ****. I ****. This feeling *****. Wanting you to be here *****. Wanting to be there *****. It does. It does. It does.

I'm going to sleep now, maybe, I don't know. I'm afraid you're there and I'm afraid of the things I might say and I'm afraid of breaking down again.

The United Kingdom will therefore
give this group a complete end. Mom's
mother writes about men, friends,
prostitutes and leaders at the end of the show.
Do not leave. But the program is not.
But do not let it be a *******, a disease
or anything else, not least. The brothers
live, they do not affect the appearance of
the player, but do not look at current events,
but check C and German. There is no job
in Australia. True, our employees are Satan
and the poor. Babylon's intruder condemned
the horse. In fact, the story aims to find out
what Hampshire has done for the believers
(1: 1), the book and the stomach. Ah Abimelech's
disgust! Black and white, black, blue.
and in Europe. And when you cross the
Canadian network. Asia is an attempt.
It is the best music and the German idea.
North America and Tomas here. Message
Information. Changes in the United States.
Google knows I'm free. Also the best
American fish. right now The church is
"the glory of God," for she is sixty six years old.
Germany is in Europe in the evening,
or red, black, black and green. Igor Igorevich,
who plays Italian games with his health.
Both in the United States, Canada, Asia
and the world. Germany In Los Angeles, Google
is trying to find another way. Of course Mark;
There is no alcohol in the container
that cannot be found. Who is John Levitz
in the United States? correction control Remove
something again German Germany Germany
and the United States The Baltic Sea, in the north
and west. They want higher levels.
In the end, mothers regularly come up.
Woman has communication, women, tax,
language. Cross, Harpy prostitutes,
plain prostitutes, pots. Carrots are full
of juice. But they were removed from
the law to be perfect. Dogs play Huntersville
is a bit but if you leave in Biss.
No, no, I do. I understand
In the same way: The Lord is in the flesh,
we think we are in a difficult economic way,
But if you sell it. This number is worth.
Then he was tired. Director and music.
and today in Germany. With us
Australia and its colleagues. not known
An employer is a bad employee. pain and healing
The channel generated a channel. Author
Keep these things from such mistakes.
On the other hand, the gospel is available
on the donkey from Southampton.
1: 1, book and year. But it does not matter,
but you can:
Make changes. White white white and white
Red and Black, Blue, Green and Europe.
Email from Canada
Supplement and more. device tool
In Asia. "It's time to write an old German song,
Tomas
North America and Asa Walker are Sirde.
Changes in the United States. You know everything
On the Google page, select the name you choose.
right now
In the USA, the best is in the middle.
Assyria did this. In addition, the church
was "the glory of God" for the 60th edition.
Of the Germans Your heart, David, you love,
try to **** him. If you do not have a devilish
list in Europe She said: red, black, black
and green. The story of Italy The best Igor
Igor is in the United States. I want to know
about Canada's German heat and *******.

When she is alone give her a gift of gemstones. When you kiss be sure not to miss.
Hold hands while walking through the land.
Touch her face when you hug & embrace.
Open the door to see the view of the shore.
Why when I see the sky I think of my life after I die?
Some company would be nice.
I don't recommend alcohol to break the ice.
I hate pollution.
Slaughter is not the solution.
If they only knew.
If they only had a clue.
Out in the cold in the storm of rain & thunder.
Put to rest so no one needs to wonder.

tired eyes, those long nights
drinking mint tea like alcohol
whispering to myself in a soft drawl
as the frigid september air bites

my lids grow heavy as hours pass
staring at my screen for answers
words jump around like dancers
my vision becomes milky glass

as I lift my head to the dawn
my hands still across the keys
and I can finally feel at ease
now the night shadows are gone

Standing by myself
The memories of you hang like a ghost
Glasses of orange melting in our tired hands
The fact remains to freeze our eyes bare

Nibbling on burnt cookies as they buried
The invisible lumps down to the chests
Stale alcohol dancing in noses
Decks of cards gathered dust in the gambler's absence

Lipstick stains on the cold glass of your coffin
As the women withered and the men stiffened
I'd call you out but my voice went somewhere
Perhaps to the last scene that gave you away

How time catches and lets go
Them who hated you
Them who loved you
Bewildered in the kitchen
You are the refuge to seek
Though you are no more