Transparency

He started thinking about letting it go but then as soon as the idea came into his head, he craved it. He wanted it. He wasn't even sure why. He wasn't desperate, he wasn't cranky, he was just addicted to it. He felt the need growing slowly. Even if he wanted to stop, he was sure no that he couldn't; not without being forced anyway. It was an instinctive thing that he relied on now. Like smoking a cigarette.
His friends would tell him that he had a problem. I'm not that bad. I do other stuff. They never really gave him a chance. They never took him seriously. Some might say that that was the reason he started so strong in the first place. Or maybe thats just what he thought. He was confused sometimes. He couldn't decipher between his mind and reality anymore.
He was addicted. But it was emotional. There was nothing chemically binding him to the drug. It was happiness when it entered his lungs. It was like he was leveled out by it. When he wasn't on it, he was a catalyst of his former self. He was like a crack addict, always having to be occuppied by something. He would clean like he never would when he was stoned. He would turn in job applications in a professional way. However, it always seemed to end with the same thing. And he never learned.

Pre-Separation Anxiety

She was a garage band bassist. She played all the time in her room when she wasn't with the band. Somtimes she would cry when she slept. He never found out why. They broke up last September. It was surprisingly chilly for september. It was his idea. He couldn't do it anymore. It seemed as though she was never really around, and when she was around, she was someone else entirely. She would laugh one minute and then cry the other. Her face would spew sweat almost constantly and he couldn't find what it was that was wrong with her. He tried to ask but it always seemed uncomfortable. Its not the right time, he thought. Plus the sex was great. She liked the top and he liked the bottom.
It seemed that that was what it had become. Just sex. Every now and then they would actually spend some time with each other that didn't involve fucking but it was very rare. He didn't love her and he knew that she didn't love him and that was okay. Until now. He wasn't okay with it anymore. It wasn't a relationship anymore. It hadn't been for a long time.
He got off of work and he decided that he was just gonna get it over with. He assumed that they were both expecting it to happen sooner or later. He knew he was alteast. He drove down to Capital Avenue. A friend of his lived down there. He went down there with big decisions and he had been with her for about three years now.
He climbed the three flights of stairs to get to his friend's door. He wasn't happy about the decision which surprised him. He thought it would be easy. They were both in completely different points in their life and it was probably doing the both of them a favor.
As he reached his friend's door now winded, he knocked lightly. His friend answered quickly. "I think I'm gonna break up with Kate tonight," He sounded serious. His friend knew he was serious about it. They had known each other for a long time.
"Why now?"
"I don't love here. To be honest, I'm not sure that I ever really did. We always had a physical thing going on. We just fucked and fucked and never really talked about anything. And that was when we first met. Now we're completely different. Not a damn thing in common. I'm not really even interested in the sex anymore. She let me fuck her ass and I just couldn't get anything out of it."
"Well it isn't just about the sex."
"Exactly. And thats all this has become."
"Then maybe you should just do it. I mean you'll be moving away in a few months to fuckin Seattle. Shes staying here to gain residency. You think you never see each other now, what until you're fucking all the way on the other side of the nation and you're both workin your balls off."
"I have to do this. Plus, I think shes into this waiter. She always wants to go this coffee place on certain days. I've suggested other places but shes persistent."
"Well if you're feeling this, then maybe she is to. I wouldn't doubt it."
"But fuck Jim, three fuckin years for nothing."
"It wasn't for nothing. You know they're not all gonna be that person. Don't be naive."
"I know, but I don't want to feel cheated at the end."
"What if she doesn't feel any of this?"
"What do you mean"
"I mean, what if she doesn't feel the same way. What if she really likes where you guys are and has every intention on continuing protocol when you leave?"
He never really thought of that. Jim always made him think more than he really wanted. I'm not gonna visit him anymore. He was frustrated with himself. He didn't know her at all anymore; but maybe that was her fault. He didn't mean for it to happen but then again, he doesn't know if she even realizes it.
He drives home with a calm. He didn't know what he was gonna say. He wasn't sure what was gonna happen but he knew that he would know something. He would know her more or he would know himself more or he might even know where everything is going. He pulled into their spot in the apartment lot. They were on the bottom level. He walked up the path to the door with apprehension.
He pulled out his keys thumbing through them to find the correct one. He dropped the rest when he found the one he wants. He slipped it into the hole. It made a metallic click when he turned the latch. Kate always locked the door when she was home without him.
She was on the couch watching T.V. She was as awake as ever. She smiled at him with eyes he hadn't seen in a while. He didn't know.

Moonlit

Crafty with the hair flowing out a beautiful head. Tends to make everything confusing. Shes a porcelain doll when shes naked. Like I everythings painted perfectly on. Shes a painting of a great sea. Epic and dark. Her eyes cry for mine to follow. Its a banshee call. I'm lured by ecstasy. I almost smell it, see it red in the room. It covers my jeans, my shirt, my face and skin. It kills my lungs with burning apprehension. She is a crucified queen lying naked in the sheets. The blood fills me up. I'm spent with this. I move down to her. Her pain isn't concern. Shes not dying. Shes simple. Shes right. Warming my skin with lips. Shes a pretzel of arms and legs around me willing me to struggle. Its the only thing that can be done. Her eyes are the moon staring through the window of my mind. I'm dazed by the last breath she breaths. My hand is orange and traces down porcelain. We're painted perfectly with the moonlight and shadows. No one is the wiser.

Shut the Window

Can you see through what I'm saying
Alls I'm doin is playin
You tell me to be myself because everyone else I am is lame
The lights they're blinding us both
We keep trying to hold on to this hope
But nothing we say takes back that bitterness
I lie to cover up the fact that we aren't us anymore
You're a gentle hand on my face making me want to try longer
Nothing seems to matter in those fingers.
Close my eyes because I don't want to cry with you
I don't want you to see that
opening up isn't a great idea at this point
The window is open...its cold
Blows by us pushing us together like fate's cinch
Shut the window on this
We don't want this anymore
I don't want this anymore.

Apparently Not

Its two o'clock in the morning. Its actually two o'four. I can't sleep again. I think about death in the middle of these nights. Where I can't sleep. Its funny how much I think about the great sleep while I can't sleep. I smoke a cigarette. The house makes a funny noise. I get paranoid. I have an irrational fear of something supernatural occuring. A spirit or a demon or something. It could be anything. So I don't move because I've got it set in my mind that if I don't its a better chance of whatever it is won't find me. I can make a noise coming out of a door of room because of the former reason. So I lie there now perspiring. There are unidentified sounds of footsteps. I don't ever turn my back to the door. Ever. I feel it getting closer. Of course it isn't because whatever I think it is isn't really anything at all. However, when I'm alone in my room in the middle of the night and all my roomates passed out several hours ago so they wouldn't even hear my posession.
My bedroom door opens slowly. It opens with a creak and a creepiness that I can't describe. You're never scared of the same thing in the movies but when it happens to you it makes it different. It makes it domestically disturbing. So you try to find a way to kid yourself into thinking that theres a good explaination why the door just open. Its been ten seconds and there is no one there. If it was one of my roomates they would have entered by now. Or maybe there just making a joke. Its not funny to me but that would be the funny part wouldn't it? I wait there for a minute, contemplating the speed I would have to produce to get to the lightswitch. The spirits are repelled by light...apparently. I don't know about these conditions anymore. What if all the these rules are bullshit. I'm full of shit all the time. Why wouldn't I be when its important. When I'm about to be possessed by a pissed of spirit. I put my legs up and sling shot my body towards the lightswitch. My hands rub the wall in a big stroke and the lights come on with a relieving brightness.
I peer out the ajar door with all the balls that I have and I am not attacked. I slowly shut the door quickly and turn my DVD player on. I lay back down surrounding myself in covers. I shut the light out again and watch some "Scrubs." The door opens again. My window is open. Its just the suction of the outside air mixing with the inside air...apparently.

Manic Kid

Hes bruised and broken down
But no one cares
No one cares
He tries to make sense of what this is
Its him
But its a circle of hate that he can't fight
Its an imaginary entity
He cries for something new to come
No one hears him
No one cares
Its because he knows better.
He's stands on his unbalanced ground
The tension is building up again
No one sees the fire before it hits
Like a tornado
He tries to justify what they've all done
He doesn't care
He doesn't care.
He gives up.