Vices of the heart;

I was born to be different. Crash into me, pull your waves into me. Wash over me, you're a tidal wave, you're a big surprise. The scent of your skin fills me with happiness, if this is how I have to learn to love, so be it. Fingers, chapped lips, breezes that roll back my skin, delicate dances in the dark. I was born to feel the slightest withdrawal from your heart, I'm programmed to miss your voice. Half of me won't let me keep loving you, I was raised to avoid this loneliness that has settled in, show me another way to feel your warmth of your flesh. I'm fine putting your picture on my wall, but I won't stop it if it decides to fall.

This just goes out to way too many shots at the bar, unsober thoughts in my car, we go slow when we first make our moves, lying awake thinking of how I hold you. I'd put you onto your back in your bed like you had given your very last breath; make you scream my name in the only way you can. You can beat me with your angry words until your throat runs out, but remember, it's just words that are empty, isn't that right?

It's 2004 and this part is perfect, it's not the slight rain outside or the dark in your room, it's the falling for every empty word I say. It's the music that slightly fades away, your bareness of your skin, the impropriety of these sins. Why is it that I think too much, when the past is only the future with the lights on?

Gripping my empty shirt, balance my words with the games you play. Life is not for fun and fame, it's the disintegration of the heart, held by the strength of your words when you were single, ready to play. It's like yeah, I'm sure these problems will last more than the weekend, but I'm not scared to see where this goes, cause this is fucking incredible.

Driving south paints the yellow lines with a hazy glow while the dying sun is fading in my rear window. And these times that I know, no matter what's going to happen, don't you think we could work something out? We will concentrate on falling apart, because that's what I'm made to do, produce and corrupt wonders like you.

I love you so much, but do me a favor baby, don't reply

pieces of our puzzle.

This has got to be over my head
everyone knows when you can't keep up to expectations
family pressures, alcohol induced seizures, failing exam marks
constant sickness, your vanity greater than mine, congratulations
girls that can't and won't put up with the disengaging of my heart
this can't be a change from the start.

It was the beginning of how things always were,
let's now reflect and allow our minds to wander
it's the teas on a warm evening.
its the hugs that make me feel that I matter.
its the dinner dates and drives, drive-thru's and dancing.
in the laughter in their eyes that can melt a coal heart.
movie nights while holding hands.
guitar strings ringing at 3 am.

You know what's the craziest feeling? No matter what happens I'm here for that someone.

I guess through metaphors, I am trying to tell someone I love them.
without the pieces, the puzzle is just...pieces.
and would you believe it? I feel complete.
life is too short to always be rushing us through.

(credit to Lisa-Marie Hasiuk for most of this)

Forgetting how good I've got it

Actions speak louder than words. Destiny; you forgot about me.
Predictable? All my vanity has been lost.
I want to make you feel all right, hold you through the dark tonight.
Opinionated point of view, you live to push me away from you.
I want to make it feel all right.
The end of the world looks just like the beginning.

Darken your room.

"I'm afraid there's a hole in my brain.
The type where you can see through, expose your soul too.
This is visionary, just like the way I say your feelings out loud, is scary."

As I write these words, a small fragment of inspiration crosses my brain. It's a creasing thought that winds its way down, chilling my innermost thoughts.
For every element that I add to my personality, I develop a new line of thought – I become more aware. From gas, I turn into vapor and from vapor I turn into a solid block of what I want to be. But that’s not inspiration, that’s self-improvement and that’s a human instinct – which is to evolve. This can't be inspiration.

Possibly, I'm so unconsciously aware of my own inspiration, my own efforts, my resolve to dedicate myself to certain tasks or goals. Is it necessary that for my thoughts to be yet so opaque to myself, but so clear to others? Do I allow myself the reasonable amount of proper justification for my own actions? I understand that for an action to occur, there must be an inspiration, a type of thought to take place that instigates my action.

Now, back to my thoughts in my head;

"I said we'll run until the sun burns out
Until our eyes no longer blink,
Who wants to run until the sun burns out
Until the shades are pulled dark
Where the red spots under our eyes lie about the other times
When the weight of your skin is more than the weight you pull with your mouth
Close those blinds, they don't lie
After all, what you can't see, you can't deny
Darken your room, shut me out, consume me."

Raindrop Trails

A man needs his element
That is, the decompression of his desires and identity
An explosion consisting of decisions, thoughts, and dreams
The unexplainable tabula rasa experiences that man seeks to discover
Resulting in definitive thesis that man was all born without emotion
Incapable of any thoughtful nature

Rain presses its undefinable shape deep into the pane
The glossy figures swerve and slide their way
Down, down, into the drain
The trail marks left behind speak of a voyage that has never
Been experienced, endured, or studied
It's the same way with a man's thoughts,
The tragic conditioning of a torrential waterfall
Of emotions, tears, feelings and the cure for

This wind is cold to the man
It's a breeze that chills to the core
Vulnerable and resistant to feelings you abhor
It's so much easier to ignore than to restore
Why change attitudes or behaviors when yes sir, you'll take one more
On the rocks, keep your heart locked,
Let that breeze roll in, you see that star?
It's not shining for you anymore

The dripping of water, the eyes pressed to the glass
The hot smudge of breath creates a whirling, damp, fog
The chills on the neck and the memories from the moon's trek
Across the smolten sky, now begin to illuminate a shadow of the room
It's as if fears resemble empty space in life
Scampering, winding, transposing themselves beyond all identity
Pull that coat close sir, pull it tight
The ache in your throat, it's alright