Deliver Me From Despondency

sometimes i wish you knew the hurt that festers my soul
runs rampant and eats my desires whole
the kind that on my best day i ever had
still hallows and carves the pleasantries dry
and you wouldn't know unless it capsized your life
the aches that torment and banter through night
and to no avail you defiled me weak
for you i'm a saint yet faced with defeat

Out Of The Ruins

it's funny how we live in the past. pictures plastered everywhere. relax.

life always seems to get harder, as i get exponentially softer. i can feel the skin touching my bones, and it's worse than ever before. i'd like to meet the guy who invented change to show him how i perfected melancholy, cause i bet he'd be jealous. and around here catching any kind of break is like marrying a serpent - it's never really legitimate.

but the sidelines are cool because unlike the players you can see the whole picture. so maybe i should have sat out. and i guess it's more like a puppeteer commandeering my every move. but i'm supposed to give love the ax? stepping out like that just doesn't hold any weight for me.

plus i almost took a drink from the ashtray cup, i hope that doesn't say much about me. or the fact that i'm plastered like those pictures. i can count the number of times i could stand on one hand on more hands than you'd think. it's less confusing if you read it a second time. which reminds me of the rules you wrote, and how they're overbearing. had i caught a second wind i'd waste it away in days.

my final thought so happens to be that my stomach hurts because it's empty, sorta like our lives in general.

Bemusement At It's Best (And Then Some)

i thought: i couldn't live without you.
and once at my job you parked out front, and i ran out to your car - your window was down and i wanted to kiss you, i didn't. it was the first time i was taller than you. i liked that, and i wondered if you had noticed.

i flash forward: another time i was asleep on the couch - but i heard you cleaning up and i didn't know in a few days you'd kill me. or maybe just cast me aside. well, i haven't stopped disappointing since. it's only now, after i've tossed the doctrine we made years ago out, am i able to sit down and see that i was waiting in a vacuum for your fresh air. had i painted a self-portrait when i was with you it would look something like a smothered sun behind the whitest cloud.

today i've walked off your path, and out of my rotten dreams that had been festering long after their expiration date. and i was pleased when i found new life and affections. and this time i'm convinced it's for real. unlike the life with you, a collection of dialogues in which neither of us were present.