I tend to fall for wasted dreams.
Strangers on street corners,
passerbys too good for me.
I would like to believe,
that one day I'll be,
loved by soft eyes
and kissed with honesty.

He's there at airports and doctor's offices
between my love and I and when I'm at work

and when I invite him to come out and stay with my friends
and at family gatherings on holidays he never shows

I say, "Time, you're starting to **** me off."
He replies, "You should see me when I'm wasted."

i hate my ***** stained shirt
it reminds me of wasted alcohol
it reminds me i can't get wasted at all

The air smelled sweet of promises
The quill wet and ready
The seat sat empty
The page lay bare
Sweet promises turn decayed expectations
Rotting delusions
Spill through quill
From self-inflicted gaping wounds
The worms seem happy
Dancing in the meat of yesterday's dreams

I am worthless
I'm about to fall
But that's okay
No one else cares
So why should you?

I am worthless
I can't contribute
All I do is waste
Waste anything and everthing
Food
Water
Shelter
Words
Light
Time
Space
Everthing I touch is wasted

I am worthless
Don't bother trying to save me
If I leave
If I die
It will be better for everyone

I am worthless
Just let me die

Once was a flower
in the garden,
blooming with pride

A man, a lover, came
and my beauty he admired
My smooth red petals caught his eyes
gently he picked me,
and mouthed a praise
"The most beautiful among all"
this was what he said.

He brought me into his mansion
with a garden full of weeds and stones
and he placed me in a vase
near an opened window with a dust-covered curtain

I saw, at the corner, a gray waste bin
Inside it is a rose, lifeless and pale
I wondered what happened
or what he did to her

Days afterward, and he just passed by me
I lost my confidence; he did change
my leaves started to slouch and dry
my petals slowly falling off and died.

His usual fervor admiration was gone
and noticed me once again,
yet for the last time
only to pick me up
and throw me into that gray waste bin
with that lifeless, pale rose I had seen.

you were my january, new and fresh, waiting and eager

you were my february, lovely and red, short and sweet

you were my march, long and gruesome, grey and heavy

you were my april, clean and damp, lively and green

you were my may, blooming and new, wispy and pale

you were my june, loved and fiery, hazy and breezy

you were my july, red and blue, revered and bright

you were my august, muggy and sweaty, sticky and hot

you were my september, dreaded and anticipated, stressful and hectic

you were my november, chilly and windy, biting and thankful

you were my december, merry and cheery, pining and frigid

but most of all,

you were a year wasted.