thursday night, I drove an hour for you. an hour to give you that book you told me an hour ago you wanted. I drove gave you the book and that's all. I didn't expect anything in return and you didn't give me anything except sad stories. stories about him and how he betrays you, how he hurts you, how you ask so little of him. how you are meant to be alone. and I want to make a light-hearted joke to take us away from such dark waters but you once told me I joke too much. I can’t be serious. so this is me being serious. this is me nodding my head and starring at some blurred point passed you because eye-contact hasn't been my forte, loving people too fucking hard has.
it’s friday night and I’m alone and you are out with him, buying phones and watching movies and I've waited a summer and a day to watch one movie with you. just one. he makes you feel like shit for two whole days after you lose your brother. I drive an hour to give you a book, I watch a 3 hour movie for you, to connect with you. and yet I am alone and you are with him probably having a good ol’ time, probably forgetting all about me, forgetting all about his ugly natures.
I am a consolation friend. I am the person you talk to when no one else will until someone else will. I am good for nothing else.
you say over and over how you are destined to be alone and miserable for the rest of your life. you tell me that almost daily. and part of me wonders…if you’d rather -that- be your destiny than for me, of all fucking people, to chase after you like I do.
there is a point in the night
when something in you sinks
and you can’t save it from drowning
and you can feel it losing oxygen
bubble by fragile bubble
and there is nothing you can do
but sit still and trance-like
allowing it to suffocate
in these thoughts
ocean of words and scenes
you flip through them like
a photo album and you take
a picture out and you hold it up
to what is before your eyes
to compare to the nothing special here
and emotions push that thing deeper
into the water until it is thrashing
and all you want to be
but something has to die
or that something will be you
so you buckle in for this
because that something is you
not all of you
but enough to sedate
enough to take you out
enough to sleep