I have waited long enough, so please let me come home. Let me feel that warm embrace and call me to the pyre.

Counting the years through Summers alone, But I can’t take back those Winter’s of yours Those icy, blue days, I’m begging to change, Cause I know I’ll never call you home again. What am I after? What do I need? What will help to set me free? My memories linger, through bottles and rage And … Continue reading I have waited long enough, so please let me come home. Let me feel that warm embrace and call me to the pyre.

My heart doesn’t want to recognize that you’re gone, so I’ve learned to live without either of you.

It begins where we failed; the end of a broken road, the end of any chance we had at being whole, at being a home. Happiness on our own never seemed like an option; we had the right cards but even still we could do nothing but lament our fate and watch as they all … Continue reading My heart doesn’t want to recognize that you’re gone, so I’ve learned to live without either of you.

No matter how far I go, from shoreline to shoreline, begging refuge from coastguards and strange light towers, I never drift far enough to find an Ocean without at least an ounce of you.

You'll find me in Belgium,  On the coast of the North Sea.  I'll be swaying on the current,  The salty spray of the tide  Running me towards the Strait of Dover.  It bears my essence as it crashes,  A crushing cerulean weight To turn rock into sand,  And sailors dreams into restless sleep.

I’ll chalk this latest mistake up to another bad decision made in poor lighting. I’m just happy it happened in Winter, so I have a ready-made excuse to always be wearing long sleeved shirts.

My heart remains silent, fearful of the shadows I’ve swallowed in my attempts to quell my hollow soul. With every beat, that darkness is pulled closer, and I’m left hoping this bottle of pills will be enough to keep the demons at bay, or else I’ll need to wash them all away in a rush … Continue reading I’ll chalk this latest mistake up to another bad decision made in poor lighting. I’m just happy it happened in Winter, so I have a ready-made excuse to always be wearing long sleeved shirts.

The only comfort I can give myself is the reassurance that a monster like me is better off alone

Time slips through my outstretched hand, and I try to grasp at its tail, but those lines are just wisps of smoke, and they roll over my fingers, kissing my knuckles, tickling the scars on my wrists, spiraling up and around my neck, filling my ears with the sound of my own beating heart as … Continue reading The only comfort I can give myself is the reassurance that a monster like me is better off alone