I Can't Be With You, I Can Only Talk.

I've come to terms with the fact
I must go across some seas
and sing songs to people on the street.
I'd follow them until they knew
just how beautiful you are,
I promise.

They'd throw their 2 cents at me,
but I can only play
while being told what I ought to be.
I can't say I mind it much,
it's what I was meant to do.

RE: Song For Luna (It came too soon)

It was as if we never left the bed,
though I'm positive we were on the beach.
I heard the surf lean towards us,
but sucked back by the inevitable force of natural order.
And I heard them playing on the water,
they sang to us,
but it never mattered.

You left your hair down,
tossed to your side
and hoped I would join.

In his house,
I found myself.
Hidden under sheets, alone
but I became the one,
who would watch you,
no matter what you had done.

As you pulled in on your cigarette,
before finally coming back,
you were singing to the moonlight,
"who could ask for more?"



"People often don't have a reason for their fuck ups" -A really good friend

Goodbye, STAC.

I couldn't begin to fathom,
all the stories I'd have lost.
It would be fair,
had I kept cool and calm,
act like nothing had really happened.

Cabin fever would stop me from
getting the best of you,
but how dare I think such thoughts,
though,
I wouldn't have it any other way.

At the risk of running over
and over exposing you in the field,
I never looked left the same way,
but we never seemed happier.

After that night,
the fire died and somehow kept me warm,
even though you had left hours before.
I sat with your shell and made small talk.

As the band sped up,
I knew I had to leave.
The rest of you had left me too,
but I might of just left sooner,
had we ever noticed it was anything.

We never had the pressure,
and I assume we'll never need it.
But I've said what I've to say,
and I've still got long walks to have time to think.

Chapter 2: The Elephant Finds Closure.

I've fought with the beasts
that conquered my block,
made every crack in the pavement count,
and I checked off each item of the grocery list
that you left on the table for me to find.

I made your closet hollow
and boxed up your side of the bedroom.
With the old radio,
cobwebbed and dusty,
playing the album thats playing was inevitable today.

As I wasted time on the edge of the bed,
I counted how many times the door hit the wall.
It left a few hundred dents or so,
each one piling in to the last.
And at last, I met your shadow playing under the door
and I knew it'd be best if I let you take the blame.

93

I've come to grip
and leave what I've done.
I've never much cared for you,
though it had always been assumed.
I've never much cared for much,
but it had always been assumed.
I've never cared for the bugs that crawled on my shoes
or the leaves that tried to hide them,
I just always assumed I had.

92

When I messed up,
I made it worth their while.
And it didn't even matter,
I was so wrong,
I wrapped the living room with my hands.

I broke the floor for the last time.
We put up what we had
and I could only watch.
I wasn't allowed much.

And I messed up.
And so did you,
and your neighbor, and your parents.
I threw the bullets around,
but ultimately,
it was me. I held them all.
I held it in my hands some more.
I acknowledged what I'd done.
I messed up.

The House Within A House.

I've never been more upset,
I could complain for a month or so,
until our ears began to bleed.
There's no way to reduce it.

I've thrown rocks at the house,
set the porch ablaze,
cried out at the garage,
and broke my knuckles on every window.