Memories Fade Like Photographs

oh insomnia
how i love you
we have been spending alot of time together these past few months

but when i crash
i crash fucking hard
12-16 hours
coma
been back to writing
the pen and pencil way
it felt good.
pushing out ideas as they came
without the worry of a dead battery

midnight text messages
morning vibrations
afternoon delights
nighttime worries

if i could stare out this window
i would
but there isnt much to see
except a pool that has been ignored all year
and a fence
blocking your voyueristic intentions to the neighbors yard
lets not forget its a sliding glass door
and not a window
with long verticles
always closed
and a black curtian
also closed
green and black
wicked
colors of the coffin
green with envy
black with loss
loss of what things once were
loss of who i used to be
loss of where i was a year ago.

that pool i told you about
used to be crystal clear
stars would beg to be reflected off of it
i know this
i heard them talking as i was making my wishes last night.
but then i realized it wasnt stars i was wishing on
they were airplanes
and the voices were those of heavy souls on the flight
clinging to their seats
begging that they would land safely at their destination

some of the best writers are insomniacs
yes
im talking about you
the one person who can make me despise everything he is one minute
then fall in love with him and want to change the world with him one emo heart at a time the next.
the boy who i write about, but have never known
the boy who read the title wrong
and wrote himself a tragedy, not a sin
his body crawls with flaws
but that makes him every more perfect
the one person i can count on to get me through
dot coms refereshing for a journal update
guilty as charged
the words are always there
your words
the words that make my day a little brighter
the words of a boy so lost, even the Lost Boys cant help him.
I write as if you read this
I write as this all makes sense
to anyone but me and you
i write as if someone note-worthy will read it
someone who gets it
someone who just knows
someone who can read this and automatically know where i was when i wrote it
what i was wearing
how i was feeling

empty stomach
empty heart
empty head

records were meant to be broken
so were hearts and faces
two out of three ain't bad

birthday tomorrow
nineteen years
nineteen years of what?
memories
good and bad
mostly good

memories of the best friends i could ever ask for
memories of the friends i cant stand
memories of you and me
memories of big smiles and big hearts
memories of laughing so hard, headaches follow
memories of life spent undercover
memories of late night chats

memories to last a lifetime.