He is like a fresh breath of air on an Autumn morning after being trapped inside all day from the storm the day before,
But he can also be the exhilarating feeling of dancing in the rain with the sky thundering just as hard as your heart in your chest.
He is the chaos in my peace.

my eyes are drawn
to your white lettering
and black label.

my soul is rather
fired up by that
substance inside you.

my lips,
by the taste.

“don’t do this to yourself, you’ve been good all this time.”

“you’ve been steering clear, you’ve been attending your meetings.”

i tell myself, as i reach in
my pocket and rustle through
the chips i‘ve collected all
this time as reward for
learning to live without you.

but ****.

that smell. the way you feel inside me.
the way you make my head shake.

the way you make me forget.

you taste of liquor, my dear, and i’m a recovering alcoholic.

oh ****, i’m sorry...correction.
was a recovering alcoholic.

so a toast,
to your wonderfully devilish eyes,
and to another relapse.

-melancholicreator

...on a tangent,
writing lines on my laptop as my emotions run rampant,
in a parking lot outside a Sprouts on Santa Monica Blvd.,
typing vows like they might make some kind of difference,
woke up, restless, on the wrong side of the bed today,
welcomed back, to this Waking Life with tightness in my chest,
& this relentless feeling of eternal loneliness I can’t shake,
which has got me thinking, maybe some souls can’t be saved,
& maybe that’s why I’m now sitting in my car,
with tears in my eyes & nowhere to drive,
because there’s nowhere I want to go,
other than back to the one place where my love was denied,

the only place I want to go,
is back into the arms of the one that let me go,
but she’s so far gone memories seem like only dreams now,
even though I’m not dreaming, I’m wide awake, woke,

I feel so far away from her, for real, it’s almost unbearable, tears start to flow, I think about taking my own life, but don’t,
instead I shake it off, write it down, get these words out of me, to show we all hurt & it’s okay to lose control,

& yeah I know I’ve got nothing really to complain about,
because I’ve got a great life & all that,
but knowing my life is better than most of those in this world,
doesn’t really make me feel better or enhanced,
in fact, it actually makes me more depressed,
it makes me wonder what hope we have left,
as the forests burn, the wars rage,
& the polar bears frantically panic on ever melting ice caps,
& I’m constantly aware of all of these obvious facts,
& maybe that’s why I’m in my car with tears in my lap,
lost with no motivation running out of time & patience,
can’t see a future, feel the present, or remember the past,
This Unruly Mess We’ve Made looks great, shout out to Mac,
but it wasn’t built to last so how much more can it withstand?...

excerpt from poem #63 of THHT3:
The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy Vol 3
available worldwide 9/9/19