Dearest Anarchy, beloved soul that you are, teach me to fish in Hades. Remind me of the lie covered truths and broken-hearted songs that bite. Let me tell you that I crave your voice the way i long to hate the ones who know no other way than to hate. Oh Anarchy, you intrinsic soul, take me through the fire, show me what darkness really is and teach me to fish in Hades for it seems there is no other way.

He searched for enlightenment,
obsessing over the cosmic refreshment,
only to find a girl who cannot lie,
never sleeps, and always sighs.

I know I wasn't his goal at all,
so Anarchy dear, teach me how to fall -
for something, someone, anything, anyone
other than his love, to replace my dying sun.

I know you remember me still
by the way she cries and I know
you refuse to tell her why, afraid that
you might scare her away. You hold
her close at night and sing her the songs
you wrote for me pretending it's my smile
on her face and the chocolate in her eyes
has been replaced by my bluebells and
crashing waves.

I know you tried to move on
and haven't given up yet
because she is still there even though
we both know she's not your type and
this just isn't fair. You give her my names
and make up new reasons that just aren't there
but she believes you because it looks
like someone really loves her
and you are here forever.

I know you remember me by the way
she cries when you're not around
and we both know you still taste
my sour apple kisses in her tears.

I know you remember me by the way
she cries, and we all know you will still
even after Death dies.

The softest sound
reached for shape
and settled upon
drops of glass-like
rain falling from the
gardens of your
God forsaken bible
and whispered,

"Heaven
. . . is. . .
Falling."

You are the oceans
and the seas -

the tree branches and
their leaves.
You are the sunrise

in the morning and
starlight when I sleep -
you are colors after

a rainstorm, your
warmth thaws the
winter freeze.

You are the air
that I breathe -
you are the wind songs

on the breeze.
You are my entire world
you mean everything to me.

There's nothing wrong. At least nothing I know of.
The tears just don't like my eyes. And my mind
is tired of developing blurry pictures -
its such a ******* waste of energy.

My shadow sits against the wall wondering when
I'll hand her off to a decent conversationalist,
even though walls will never talk and floor boards
just complain. I know it's all fun and games to you,
to them, to everyone else, but my mind just can't
pick up on that - just can't grasp why something
so cruel could ever be so funny. There's a person
stuck in the mirror staring back at me,
they say it gets better, but they've got the devil's
famous grin buried beneath countless layers of
make up and lies.

That stupid voice in my head, the one deeper than my own,
the one everyone knows to ignore - everyone that is but me,
reminds me just how tiny i am in this great big world. It's like
my mind doesn't know when to stop, the pain brings more pleasure
than the strangers calling me pretty as they offer to
buy me some fruity drink down the block (I love the look
on their faces when I end downing **** stronger than their own.)
there's nothing wrong. At least nothing I know of.

I just woke up today and realized that i'm not who I thought I was.

That I'm not who you think I am.

I am just another
impostor
in your bed.

Right now I am writing this in ink
that has been my blood for years now.
These words will be exactly the same for
everyone who reads them but each person
who finds them will read something
entirely different.

This being said you are always alone
in your loneliness but you are never alone because everyone else feels the way you feel
now sometimes. Right now I am writing this
for the first time and for the millionth
at the same time as well,

you are reading it for the first and last time
(but don't worry, you'll read it again
someday). And Right now you feel one way
and I feel a different way (even though
I feel the same exact way you feel).

This ink is my blood and these words
are yours even though they are
only ever mine. This is why I love you
as much as I do.

I love the way we took turns
inspiring each other by being
exactly who we were and
saying only what we truly meant.

if you come through town again
anytime soon I'd like to take you
for one more cup of coffee
in that little cafe by the park,
we can sit anywhere you like.

I love the way things were for us
when you were still here. And as much
as I miss the perfection we were,
I am completely honest when I say
that I don't miss you at all

(even though I still love you

with all my heart.)