His fingers reach for the glass pipe and all you can think about

are his eyes

and how they’re the color of every city you’ve never lived in.

The smoke undulates from his lips

like the most honeyed death sentence

into the chasm that surrounds the two of you, and the words

“he’ll destroy me”

are ringing in your ears.

He’s a paradoxical boy,

with his shooting star hands and his nebulous mind,

that carelessly leaves his magnetism lying around

for you to trip over.

Perhaps that’s how he gets girls on their knees.

You have fallen for a boy whose words fall from his lips

like dark matter, but he is

trapped inside the black hole of his own mind.

He cannot fold himself around your galaxy

because he cannot escape his own.

He’s lost there.

The sadness in his eyes

is a mirror

and as you stare at yourself you realize

this is the first and last time you’ll love your own reflection.

Now, you will only meet up in the

liminal spaces between this life and the next.

He will come to you in daydreams,

this is the only place where you can learn to love each other.

When you are in the shadowy spot

between sleep and wake,

refrain from memorizing the outline of his lips when he smirks.

The sunlight will take it away

as quickly as it gave it.

Vain I know
I just can't let go
Money that hard to earn
Each day some of it I'd burned

Creating my own clouds
To have strength to join the crowd
When I was a kid, I am too shy
Finally slain my demon of shyness and fly

It started by only feeding my ignorance
Just a single try I've said to my conscience
Seems helping me to have courage in a way
So once, twice, trice until dozen a day

My dear ones begged me to stop
I've tried a lot of times, but I just can't drop
Just like a vampire to blood I crave
To **** the beast of addiction I am not that brave

I am so ****** up now
I am targeting myself with my own bow
A poison I've known from the start
But still I keep it near to my very heart


Written: December 27, 2014

Mysterious Aries

i have a bulimic personality
taking in
more and more
until
all at once,
i snap,
throwing up words
of regret,
then looking down
at what i've done,
and
hating
myself.

Courage in a syringe that keeps me focused. Something I buy just like a cup of coffee. It looks glamorous in a movie, but the reality really *****. I surrender to the need that keeps me going. I deal with people that look ok, but will hurt you without thinking. I pay for the habit anyway I can. Doing what I must to keep it together. All I think about is how it hurts sometimes. I can't make it off of the Merry Go Round, believe me I have tried. Clean and Sober is just a saying, the reality is that I am addicted. No end, no glamor, just a truth of a cycle that I have to maintain and hope I don't crash before I can find an exit to my dependence on drugs.

you were vanquished, forgotten, left in the dark of a past i refuse to turn back to.

yet you come to me at the witching hour with your eyes of greek fire and face forged from ichor.

you come to me and rip my soul from my chest with a fist that felt like true love.

now gold, gold, gold is all i see and you are all i want.

but you flee back into the pits of hell, and i am left yearning for the sin of my love to take me with you.

rituals and incantations so strong that they make heaven roar in protest fail to bring you back to me.

i am left with a hole for a heart and a soul stained with sin.

now completely forsaken, i wait;
forever dancing with the devil in my head.

passing the torch of love
from one heart to another
touching each
in very different ways
witnessing the shrinking
of the flame
before each passing
having it reignited
by a new hand
dimming when the new
becomes old
and always
searching endlessly
   for the eternal fuel.

I can't tell you everything.
                                                     ­                           But you should be able to
                                                              ­                  Tell me
                                                                ­                Anything!
No. Not this.
People see me as an annoyance anyway,
Bothersome.
Weird.
I'm sorry you met me.
                                                             ­                   Tell me.
Why?
No I can't.
You hate when I talk to you,
Honest and open,
Claiming my opinions are a product of
My childhood.
Maybe, but I think not.
You've never walked where I stood.
                                                          ­                      Please
I don't want to,
But I will.
                                                           ­                     ...
You think I react like everyone else
You know.
But I don't. I can't.
Because I feel their pain--
YOUR pain too.
I know it sounds crazy, but I know
More than I should, and feel
What never happened to me.
I'm going crazy huh?
                                                            ­                    That's it? That's stupid.
                                                        ­                        Every time you only ever
                                                           ­                     Hide...
                                  ­                                              I'm going to drink now.
I hate me...sorry you need to put up with me.

No no no, this isn’t one of those commendable confessional rants of redounded reality.
We all know where that goes and what it leads to.
This rhetoric comprises solely of the faulty intuitive comprehension and the ******* behaviour people have while under the influence of the poor man’s ****.
That could be mistaken for a typo.

Xeno-meph, would be what aliens are called if they did this too.
Extended warranty of your sinus cavity is a must.
And a mouth guard so you don’t churn away at the capricious calcium that are your teeth.
Smoke and dance till lungs and legs collapse.
Talk like you’re the spokesperson for an oil company that’s pillaging life and land.
Change your personality in a minute and become the ****** you always wanted to be.
That smart talking, **** wagging, ***** licking, *** *******, back stabbing, self serving, worthless ******* is now you, but it doesn’t feel like that to you.
Rational *******, your only reprieve.
Keep doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again hoping the outcome will change.
But you’re cool.
You’ve done this before, it’s solvable.
A break. That’s all there’s to it.
The itch in your nose has stopped. Your jaw doesn’t hurt.
You don’t feel like ****, but you know somehow that something is amiss.
Things are not what they seem. Sense doesn’t make itself.
The dark is your sanctum. Fast is your peace.
That’s not a typo.

The world cannot slow down for you.
You have to speed up. Another gram, another line, another lie.
Control is what you say it is.
Handles are what your stomach has.
Fast forward a few months and you don’t have a handle on anything.
You don’t feel down, you feel fine. Nothing’s wrong
But just another fall, and you’re straight out of line.
Justify! Justify! Justify!
Listen, keep listening… Talk! keep talking!
Everything makes sense. Everything is a sense.
The difference is that I’m faster, quicker, sharper.
I’m handicapped.
Leverage is my mind, broken and blind.
I wish that was a typo.

From sleeping in streets to walking miles alone I have come to a direction the page just cannot follow my friends .
I have chased the bottom of a glass since I was fifteen and that was to far to be anything more than a blurred memory.

And to the times that seemed to matter.
Now only to those who haven't lived my existence a lone wolf knows no true  direction just simply howls to let the others know he does still exist.

Are words betray us and then eventually it all fades .
I'm not the act I'm the delusion that fueled a ego now left to wither a dead tree in a forest of many .

None will recall but far to many will simply use ******* when facts get in there way of a good story .

Tonight I sat under a full moon and howled as the wolves often do.

There was only silence that followed the eco .

Even the lost know there is no hope for the madness .
When your words betray you and only a dead tree remains.

Maybe another time the stars will find me in good favor .
And like those around tonight will listen and only stay silent to the lone wolfs howl.

you're not even going to start smoking for a good reason*
I feel less stressed out when I'm in pain
the smoking doesn't cause direct pain
I'll put it out on my arm
that'll scar
I'm not sure if I care. I might finally be able to balance the scar count
is your ocd that bad?
No
then why the balance
I feel better that way
you won't feel better when you have throat cancer
Eh maybe
please don't do this to yourself
I can at least try not to. No promises
*fine