Untangle yourself from your sheets.
Change your clothes.
Brush your hair.
Breathe
Brush your teeth.
Drink water.
Eat fruit.
Breathe
Pick a movie on Netflix.
Watch it without distraction.
Laugh at the jokes.
Breathe
Don't think about pills.
Don't think about crying.
Don't think.
Breathe
Get up.
Change your clothes.
Wash the tear stains from your face.
Breathe
Get in the car.
Pick up your sister.
Don't let them see you breaking.
Breathe
Remember that you're loved.
You have so much to do.
You have your entire life.
*Breathe...

I'm not breaking down
I'm breaking *out

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
And help me understand
Cos I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start
That you would love me more than her
If I trust in you oh please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too oh please
Don't hurt my pride like her
Cos I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
Cos I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad if our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that I
Would love to love you
And that she will cry
When she learns we are two
If I fell in love with you

Do you talk about me? Do you tell them who I am? Who I was? What I mean to you? What I meant to you? Do you mention our love that will never die? The times we shared? The music we listened to? The early morning kisses? The late night tears? Does my name even pass your lips?

I didn't want you to see that Me,
a Me that's so insecure that she
can't even bring herself to smile
or laugh at your jokes...
But you did.
It was an accident.
I'm sorry.
Please don't look.
Please don't leave.

"You can't see my scars. They aren't on my body."*

But maybe you can hear them --
In the words I say, or quite often, don't say.

Or maybe you can catch a glimpse --
In the looks I repress, or quite often, don't repress.

...I'm sorry I can't let you in.
Don't take it personally.
I rarely let anyone in far enough to *see.

The scars aren't completely healed.
They're too painful, too deep.

Why rip the scabs off?
If I do, they may bleed forever.

"John's dead. He's been shot."
  
Who would **** John? Why now? Why not '65, when half of America wanted him dead? Oh, God. I'm going to faint. I'm going to be sick. This isn't real. This isn't happening. He's alive, yes, he's alive. Living, breathing, alive. It was just a joke, some freak calling me just to get a response from a Beatle. No, Lin, I don't believe it. Are you sure? Is he...? Jesus Christ... Jesus ******* Christ... The **** of all jerks... I gotta get in the studio. George? Yes, I know. I know. Yeah, you still in the mood to get in the studio? Alright, I'll see you there. No, that doesn't sound right... Play it back again. That's fine. George, I'm... I'm gonna go. It's just too hard, ya know? I thought it would help, but it didn't. I'll call you. Oh, I was very shocked, ya know. It's terrible news. Um, I was just listening to some stuff, ya know, I just didn't want to sit at home. I didn't feel like it. This morning some time. Yeah.
**Drag, isn't it?

I may have switched gears,

left and down
lust
right and up
love

but trust me,
love was all I was feeling.

Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul
Honey, make this easy.
Leave it to the land, this is what it knows
Honey, that's how it sleeps.
Don't let it in with with no intention to keep it
Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it.
Honey don't feed it, it will come back.

Ever since I was a kid in school
I messed around with all the rules
Apologized, then realized
I'm not different after all

Me and the boys thought we had is sussed
Valentino's all of us
My dad said we looked ridiculous
But, boy, we broke some hearts

In and out of jobs, running free
Waging war with society
Dumb, blank faces stared back at me
But nothing ever changed

Promises made in the heat of night
Creepin' home before it got too light
I wasted all that precious time
And blamed it on the wine

I was only joking, my dear
Looking for a way to hide my fear
What kind of fool was I?
I could never win

Never found a compromise
Collected lovers like butterflies
Illusions of that grand first prize
Are slowly wearin' thin
Susie, baby, you were good to me
Giving love unselfishly
But you took it all too seriously
I guess it had to end

I was only joking, my dear
Looking for a way to hide my fear
What kind of fool was I?
I could never win

Now you ask me if I'm sincere
That's the question that I always fear
Verse seven is never clear
But I'll tell you what you want to hear
I try to give you all you want
But giving love is not my strongest point
If that's the case, it's pointless going on
I'd rather be alone

'Cause what I'm doing must be wrong
Pouring my heart out in a song
Owning up for prosperity
For the whole **** world to see

Quietly now while I turn a page
Act one is over without costume change
The principal would like to leave the stage
The crowd don't understand..........

A year later, I'm still cradling your weeping sister in my unworthy arms...

I broke my heart
before you had
the chance to.

Never had I felt so unwanted in my entire life. For the first time, you gave me an inkling of doubt. That inkling later turned into a stain that covered my entire heart, blocking you from it. You didn't want me. You wanted someone else. I was barely a month post-operation. My self confidence was frighteningly low. Did you notice? You always called me confident, but I wasn't. Not then. It only got worse after I read those text messages. I'm sorry I did, but I knew something was wrong. I was right. You had wanted someone who wasn't me. In a way, it felt like cheating. You would've, had there not been a strict "no touching" rule. You would've. As I read those texts, I jumped up, ran down my grandmother's hallway, and locked myself in her bedroom. My hands were shaking and my knees were weak. How could you? I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. How could you? God, it ******* hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt. You destroyed any trust I had in you. From then on out, my trust was lacking. It never returned. Never.
One thing I've realized looking back on things is that you didn't care. You barely cried while my pain was pouring down my cheeks. You hardly blinked. You thought that I would welcome you back with open arms. You actually got upset when I wouldn't kiss you, three days after having my heart broken. *******. ******* for hurting me like that.
I should've ended it then. I should've broken your heart.
Then maybe you would have understood.

Sometimes, midnight thoughts override everything.
Even the ability to sleep, to shut down the station in my head.
Staring into the dark corners of a bedroom doesn't seem to help.
Thinking of you at 12:03 PM doesn't seem to help either.
So what happened last night?
I slipped into the newly-washed sheets and closed my eyes...
Your face appeared.
It was the face you were wearing last time we were together.
The cautiousness behind those green eyes was not opaque, love.
You stoped yourself.
From watching my lips when I spoke to you...
From watching my hands when I worked...
From watching my eyes whenever you discreetly tested the uncharted waters of the Ocean of Us.
But I saw you.
How sly you must've thought you were (are).
But you weren't, really.
Because at midnight, the unconcious deductions I formed that day awoke from their shallow graves...
                                                       ­                And I saw you.
                                                          ­                                  ...the definition of "sleeplessness".

I've spent 366 days loving you
Say you love me still

And if I wasn't so tolerant  
and blinded by what I thought was love,
then maybe We would've been able to last
but I'm not one to be tied down with lies.

"I wish you weren't so..."

"So...what?"

"I don't know... dark? Yeah. Dark."

if I could be any less dark, I would.
I'd be less dark for you.
white as snow.
but aren't I?
you only see what I want you to see.
am I dark, boy?
is that the word you use to describe me to your friends?

d
a
r
k*

it could mean many things...
gloomy.
deep.
depressing.

so which am I, *boy?
how about you let me into that shallow mind?
let me see what you're thinking about me.

How does it feel?
How does it feel
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?

You have no idea what you do to me.
A simple touch of your hand sets me aflame.
*I am pushing you away in order to resist the temptation of pulling you closer.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment that music came into my life. It started with my parents, I guess. The radio was always on in our house. I'd watch Mom sway while she cooked or listen to Dad hum while he folded clothes. It was just there. Rod Stewart, ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Andrew Llyod Webber, Santana, The Beatles... Everywhere.

What I do remember is the first time music moved through me. I turned the volume dial and felt it jump into my finger tips. It traveled through my bloodstream, finding it's place in my heart. There, the music settled... and  hasn't left since.

I get the question a lot, you know.
"What made you fall so deep into music?". That's the story I tell them. Obviously, not that exact story because they would think me odd for speaking so 'poetically', but close enough. I just tell them it's like the wind --
moving around, in, and through me.

Love...*
It makes creases in the corners of your eyes.
It throws stars into your smile.
It ignites an unquenchable fire in your soul.
It travels down your legs and curls your toes.
It opens doors and windows and hearts.
Will you let it?

Your smile is contagious and I can't help but return it.
Your laugh is infectious and I can't help but to join in.
Your happiness is radiant and I can't help but to bask in the light.
Your life is precious and I can't help but to preserve it.
*Why do you make me feel so alive?

I left my love behind in vanilla scented sheets
One day you'll wake up
And you'll remember me

there is no one
I love
more
than
you.

not my short-tempered father,
not my beatific grandmother,
not even the imaginary Big Man Upstairs.

but then again,
I never am sure
you
love
me.

For you I'd climb the highest mountain
I'd sail the roughest sea
But when the sun sets in the west
I'm not sure you'd do the same for me

You didn't love me, you just loved the thought of someone loving you

I'm tempted to light the cigarette that's hidden away on my bookshelf -- Maybe then I'll be able to breathe.

Make love* is such an odd term for ***.
Why romanticize something that's already romantic?
Beautiful in itself?
If someone asked if I was a ******, I'd say,
"No, I make love everyday."
Because I do.
Making love isn't ***.
Not to me, anyway.
Making love is defined in everyday actions.
A simple "I love you".
Or another "You are so beautiful".
Even something like "I appreciate you".
Making love is spreading love.
To some, it may sound... creepy.
To others, it may make sense.
I hope it makes sense.

"Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge."

"Leave if necessary. Just leave. If you stay and hang on, you never know what will  happen."

"What is your earliest memory?"

A loaded question -- I can't help but recall mine.
You make the memory.

It was my third birthday -- Barbie themed.
Remember that day, bud?
It was a Sunday.
Everyone came to the house after ten o'clock Mass, dressed in their Sunday best.
I was wearing a dress, something my mother made...
...Your mother was there!
I remember sitting on her lap and trying to steal the cheese squares from her plate.
I asked, "Where's Scott, Mrs.Michelle?"
She replied, "He's here, Leigh, he's here! Go in the living room."
So I did.
And there you stood.
In your hand, you held a plastic bag full of water.
"What's that, Scotty?"
You laughed and I thought that was the best thing I'd ever heard.
"It's a fish! I named it for you! It's name is Strawberry."
Goofball.
Why'd you name my gift?
...Then I noticed the button on your chest.
(This is my favorite part.)
It said, **"Hi, I'm Ken!"
And you were.
You were my Ken.

Your memory is a monster; you forget—it doesn't. It simply files things away. It keeps things for you, or hides things from you—and summons them to your recall with will of its own. You think you have a memory; but it has you.

How can you see me the way you do?
What do you see?
Is your vision selective?
Is it biased?
*How can you care so much about something so broken?

Exposed and vulnerable
Yet you didn't move
You hardly breathed
God, you're arresting
I shifted, unsure
It means beautiful
A kiss on my jutting hip bone
Stunning
Another on the scar below my ribs
Breathtaking
Turned, but not too roughly
A trail down my lacerated spine
*Mine

At the end of the day,
I can lay my head
against a pillow that
smells of sweet vanilla
and know that
you
are
mine.

I want to smash every mirror
with these bloodied knuckles
so that I never have to bear
the sight of my own
pain