no-means-of-escape

Russian Roulette Even if it had been a real gun, all of us would have still taken that chance. Each individual wanted to be the one, because it meant our pain was slowly dulled away by alcohol and laughter. We were already gone, yet willing to take it one step further. Death— that's what we wished upon our hearts. I felt it creep into the air, unwavering, unwanted. As our eyes glazed over, the sun was rising. We chose to sleep. smd 2010

A Time Paradox I watch the music breathe life into you Always fighting tears animating limbs voice shining clean and clear You choke back emotion swift strumming of chords soft and smooth mouth hovering before the microphone Your life happens here existing only for the moment you give yourself away My smile is sad Somewhere in time my seventeen-year-old self falls for you hook line and sinker smd 2010

Enough Wandering the chambers of my heart, I stumble from corridor to dead end. I'm lost in a labyrinth of emotion, time, all that we've gained and lost. At each high-rising wall, I meet your gaze. The same face, a different person underneath. One is crying. One threatens to end my life. One says absolutely nothing. I run round and round in a sea of familiar stares, each facet, each façade chasing me down. While blind logic leads the way, I find a version of you that has forgotten me. It is here that I stop, because I simply cannot bear the sight. It is me, I say, a friend. You turn, open a door, and point out m

In Another Time The sweetest of honey could drench her lips, but you would never care to taste its richness. She hides among the hills and valleys, the highs and lows that leave you gasping. The heart inside her struggles at your glance, squirms in a prison of bone and hope. She gives it away exclaiming, "Destroy the damn thing before I do." smd 2010

The Others It was never me. We danced and laughed and pretended, but only for a second. I never had the body, the words, that spark of genius and sex and rock and roll. I felt it slip through my hands. A beauty that could not be found. Only a fragile something that you stole and broke in the dark. My heart. There was always someone else. smd 2010

The bottle of wine had been empty for quite some time. I kept glancing at it every few minutes, as if Bacchus himself was going to descend from the heavens and fill the bottle to the brim. No such thing happened, unfortunately. Instead, I sat on the couch, hands folded neatly in my lap. I heard music playing softly from the kitchen, and deciphered the lyrics that were drifting my way. The moonlight Shines down interstellar beams And the groove tonight Is something more than you’ve ever seen He stumbled out of the bathroom and over to the couch, sitting right next to me, but for some reason it wasn’t close enough. I felt like I

I picked up my guitar and wandered out to the balcony. Everyone else was asleep; however, I had slowly traded the day for the night. The stars were comforting because they had nothing left to do but shine. They would listen when no other would. I strummed aimlessly, trying to find a song inside of me that matched how I felt in that moment. What did I feel? Hopeless. Estranged. Careless. Alone. It was strange, the way he silently sympathized from across the room - how we could lock gazes and instantly know what the other was thinking. It was frightening sometimes, because usually he was the last person I wanted inside my head. It was a bizar

It wasn’t the first time we had slept in the same bed. We had spent countless nights on his twin-sized bed in his old apartment, cramped and clinging to one another so one of us wouldn’t fall to the floor in the middle of the night. Our first real purchase as a couple was a queen-sized mattress. We were too poor to afford a frame, so it simply laid on top of a box spring on the floor. I had put brand new red cotton sheets on it, and it had been there waiting for us once night came. That morning, I woke up and rolled over to find him soundly sleeping. For a few minutes, all I could do was just stare in amazement. This morning, this

It was the third day. We’d been locked inside the small room for that long. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept. I couldn’t sleep anymore. Not when the zombie apocalypse was a real thing, instead of something that only happened in my dreams. There had been a few scares - dull moans of rotting vocal chords, rough scrapes of flesh against cement, and the incessant banging of dead tissue against steel that happened the night before. Or was it the night before that? There was a physical sense of time, with the old man’s watch still ticking away, but no mental sense of time. Minutes were hours, days were seconds. And wh

Kill the Messenger I come before you and it grieves me to say that I am a victim of my own empathy. Whether I am next to you or a few states over I can feel the grief and pain stretching across the miles or maybe just minutes. Or am I mistaking your pain for my own? It is hard to tell the difference nowadays. I ignore the scattered pieces of my own life because it is easier trying to fix someone else’s heart, than it is fixing my own. Sometimes things that break cannot be fixed. But I spout words of encouragement, optimism, maybe even wisdom to those around me to hide the fact that I am not the person everyone