When Everything Disappears Altogether

"I swear"
Still curious
"No doubt at all"
Do what is expected of you
"Uuuh, yes"
No, tell the truth
"More or less"
Be cautious
"I didn't think I had the time"
Still, don't lie
"No, I knew"

Guilty But No Conscience

I'm wondering what your motive is.
I'm wondering how it feels to be so destructive.
How it feels to be you.
What do you do with your lonely days,
guilded with hypocrisy?
You're struggling to be in my life
by attempting to limit it.
When you dash your mirrored lips with claret
you stumble upon your eyes.
And in those dull, gray holes
I hope you see regret.
And as your lungs fill with stolen air,
I know you'll never be content
with this catastrophe.
[But, sadly, solely because your skeleton is blame's outline]

Comfortless Comforter

Silence drapped itself heavily over us.
Her last words still ringing.
The air echoed into nothingness and
pushed forcefully onto our faces . . .
It wasn't an ellipsis.
It wasn't full of tension.
It was --
She was trying to say something else
but my mind was still two seconds in
the past.
She couldn't cover up a lie with noise.
I wouldn't let her.
The blanket of silence coated us once more and she looked at me with
shaking
glassy
eyes.
Abruptly, she apologized and left.
Leaving the air hollow,
settling with doubt.

Segment from a not-so-love letter (A note to your obsession)

I find it silly that you think so highly of your romantic status in my life. I find it hard tp believe that it's okay for you and I to let you pretend like that. Why do we? It's an enevitable pain of revelation. I think, maybe it's for comic relief or, more realistically, avoidance due to desired attention. You appreciate me - and I appreciate that. Thank you. I owe you that. Thank you for helping me find - or in the very least steal - who I am. You have helped me get a foot out of this muck. Thank you for pulling my leg out without even realizing it. I am the unexpected twist on clichés. I am the phone you need totalk into. I am the inspiration for this chapter of your life. The one that you think actually means something. Well, I'm glad you think so. You, with your protruding gums. Those hideous envelopes for teeth. You, my friend, don't have enough letters for it to make any sense. Work on that. Until then ....

Where do We go From here?

Tell your trust you were used.
Never worship with whispers.
We were soaking in the moon,
holding our tongues
and voices
Our vice devoid of reason.
When shall your throat escape the
glistening linger of temptation?

The music of tears sounds like ...

The music of Tears sounds like glass shattering
They jump off your cheeks in uneven rhythms,
swarm your face.
blur your vison.
Gradually, they crecendo,
Releasing a streaming symphony that
is accompained by piano pleas:
Why did she have to die ?