Nothing I can say is gonna fix things,
No use begging and pleading.
Ill be right there when the phone rings,
Without you, my heart is bleeding.

I'm just a pathetic cry baby to you anyway,
Weakest at the times I'm meant to be strong.
Not going to just sit there and cry like you say,
I'll bite my tongue just to prove you wrong.

If ever there were a monster, it is me,
For the way I've treated you, it's true.
I'm the worst boyfriend there ever was to be,
Those unforgiving words that are stuck like *glue.

If I could go back in time*

Even perhaps, say 48hrs,
HELL! I'd take 24...
Itd be to do many things

But I'd make sure I told myself
To just ****

You open my eyes
to see more
than my sense  
would allow
       me.

I needed you to run through my veins
the same way my blood
rushes through them
breathing you in
when I want you out.
You were my drug
and I injected you any chance
I got;
craving the high
your voice would give me
and the euphoria I'd feel
filling up my chest
every time
I heard you laugh.
**That ******* perfect laugh.

We are all pieces to this puzzle,
but there are more heartbeats
than there is audible space.

There is no mark on the skin of an outlier-
just a universal instinct to reach higher.

We'll all keep reaching for the right fit.
What happens when realizations
of isolated chairs
and echoless rooms
reach consciousness?

Will we stop reaching,
or blindly ignore truth?

Will we accept broken limbs,
or feign eternal youth?

To float or to sink-
is a truly blind way to think.

Arbitrarily,
there is universal fit
and there is
unison.

red lights
are not near sights.

I am told for color
shows meaning-
blue gleaming,
magenta
beaming
and a hue of orange
reminding me that existence is
okay.
For now.

How do you see color?
Is it that which stops you,
or that which sets you apart?

I'm fueled by
cheap cold cuts
and cracked cans
of beans,
of beers,
and being below
the line of uneven
distribution//////

retribution.

There's a bit of execution
in the way a anti-institution
peels of its mask
and reveals revolution.

I don't know why the prism
is cracked
but
the shattered shards
glimmer & commentate
why we
can only see shades.

There's an anchor.
It's pulling me
closer
and
further away.

There must be a way out.

Because one time,
there was just water.
There were
just molecules.

How they fit together so
anatomically.

And now
how can they divide
so promiscuously?

It's as if the door
has been sealed
with the visions of future.

It's as if
there was never
any way to be sure.

There can't be.

Beg, borrow, and steal.
There's many ways to conceal
the distorted image
life has shone
mystically.

This is all a mystery.
I don't know if audible waves
are what the ocean brings.

There are only things.

There are only those
who sting.

And for those that blindly sing,
there are only things.