In the dark of the night
and in the silence of my room
torn between sleep and reality
I often scream at you.
******* its all your fault,
I don't miss you anymore
My brain plays out your part as well
A fight that can't be ignored.
You aren't a special person
I hate that I wasted time on you
Things I'll never say out loud,
Though that doesn't make them untrue.

I could not ever
write a phrase about you
that wouldn't be a lie.
At least not if I ever
intended to show you.
No that wouldn't be right.
Because then you'd know
loud and clear
that you're the type of guy.
That drives me so ******* crazy
I want to stab out your eyes.
And no not in a cute way.
Please stop ******* talking.
We were never ever together
So please God keep on walking.

I used to write about you all of the time.
I used to think about you all of the time.
I used to talk about you all of the time.
Then one day I read through
my old journals.
And I realized I was always
writing about the way things used to be.
So maybe its not you I'm hung up on.
Its just the used-to-be's.
And I'd like to think maybe
I'm getting a little old for that stuff.

Love seems to be
the only thing
I ever feel.
Whether it be heartbreak
or sprouting of new love.
It seems to marinate
in every bit I write.

And now
you put that all to shame.
I wish
I had never scrawled of love
before I learned your name.
I wish I had never before
Told tales of love and pain.
If it were up to me
My first written word would be your name.
Because ever since I've loved you babe
nothing has been the same.

If I could have it my way,
every kiss that ever left my lips
would be passed directly off to you.
If I had my say on things,
From the start
I'd have you every day.


Love seems to be
the only thing
I feel when I see you.
I want to compare you
to the most beautiful sounds
that ever soothed the earth.
Or the coolest water,
such as that as that cliff
where you took me,
on what should have been
our last day.

But you are better
than anything I can think
better than this
horrible explanation
better than any
love I have ever felt
for anything.
You are my everything.
I'm sorry I can't tell you.

I close my eyes and I feel it.
I open them and I see it.
In the darkness of my dreams I hear it.
The pounding of my heart.
The choking of my lungs.
The screaming of the crowd,
and I run.
My shoes pound the turf,
as my body scales the Earth.
All the while these people determine my worth.
Even worse it's fun,
so I run.
I feel it in my veins.
The irony of this joyous pain.
I live to do it again and again.
This seems to be who I am,
so I run.

"Let's have lots of babies
and grow old."
He told her in a card.
Six years before she left
and one before the birth
of her last three children.

"Let's have lot's of babies
and grow old."
He promised her that birthday,
on an over the top card
that clearly showed
the light in which he saw her.

"Let's have lots of babies,
and grow old."
He begged her
as she packed her things,
us along with them.
Leaving him with an empty heart
and empty drawers.

"Let's have lots of babies,
and grow old."
He scrawled in his neatest chicken scratch.
The only thing that left in a drawer
years after she changed her mind.

Or perhaps she always knew,
and the day she took my fathers life
was the first day she quit lying  to herself.