philosophy is the bullets of beauty

He's got an eye for storms so he walks right in
A Bible in one hand
And in the other a sin
Torn between who he wants to be
With everyone else pushing and prodding
He doesn't know who to believe
He's the guy at the party with the drink in his hand
Rambling about how guilty he is
But drinking as much as he can

A walking contradiction
A Bible in one hand
And in the other a sin
He can't feel the world around him
So he tears himself apart just searching
For anything that means something
A word or a song or a remedy
A book or a person or just maybe
An identity

if you say, "i'm right here."
when i tell you i miss you
one more time
i'm going to place my hand on your chest
just to see if your heart is still beating.

i bet twenty dollars that it's not.
i bet thirty that it is, just not for me.

if you say, "i know."
when i tell you i love you
one more time
i'm going to dust your heart for finger prints
to see if it's still mine.

i'll get a CAT-scan of your mind...
just to see if i'm still on it.

i'm tired of playing "go fish"
so i can guess what you're feeling
"got any love?"
because lately you won't show me your cards
but i'm pretty sure you still have my heart.

i look at your internet search history...
just to see if you're still looking for ways to make me smile.

there used to be something here,
alive and blooming and present;
it was beautiful.
the same way my mother's favorite vase was,
until it fell off the shelf and broke.

i check your mail box,
just to see if there are any love letters that you forgot to send.

there never are.

i thought i was okay but everything came rushing back, million year old lava shooting up and seeing the same sky after so long underground