Dom has a blog.

I’ve got two friends, deer friends of mine.
Marriage is around one’s corner, while love has left another.
The sad truth is one deserves happiness more than the other,
But those who deserve happiness spend the most time waiting in line;
The fear of losing happiness has us wasting the most time.
I’ve heard love will kill all, and I almost believe that as fact;
But when all have perished, who will be left to feel love’s wrath?
I don’t believe in a plan or a path, this is all too compulsive, so few can keep it in tact.
Despite all this, I’ve seen too much fiction to not worship romance.
Waiting in line I remain, anticipating a hand to pull me in for the inevitable dance. 

I look out the window, longing for a view.
The sights from home, no matter how askew,
Keep the blood in my veins from going cold.
This bottle; your bottle.
The lack of thought, it’s worth all the gold;
The memories you bought, you’ll remain dead no matter how old.
We were fooled to believe this was our time.
An empty bottle; my last remaining bottle. 


 

You’ve got your age,
And I’ve got my spirits.
You keep telling me we’ve got it the same,
And I get drunk just thinking about it. 
I see your lips through the corners of my eye,
This is all so indirect. 

Taking bites of flesh,
But I swear it’s romance.
You should turn away from the stink on my breath,
But I swear it’s quante; I swear it’s charming.  
Those limbs are sprawled, and the air is thick.
Your thighs are in the way of sound;
These highs, you swear you won’t let me come back up.
All my breath is gone.
You’ve got your age, and we’re both relentless.

My fingers travel towards my chest,
Right as we both begin to dress,
I feel the cold change in the air.
You were never supposed to be here,
I’m sorry for this.
I’d say goodbye, I’d tell you my name.
It’s finished. 

 

I’ve got some friends, I cherish them. 
I’ve got a brother, I’m convinced I embarrass him.
The way I see the world, if only I felt it saw me the same way;
Gleaming optimism, naivety and silly feelings spread across a vast array. 
All I want is to be happy; my mother begs me to find a way.
Delusional is how we think we can find it in something as obvious as being thin,
Putting so much effort in plainly fitting in. 

I’d try my best to talk a bridge from offing itself,
Letting her know she’s got so much to live for, so much to get across.  
I’ll cry to myself instead, when there’s cloudy skies above my head,
Their message of course gets lost in translation.  
My inability to see things clearly adds to their frustration.
It’s those grey moments that define us, like those silent films that remind us,
Laughing doesn’t have to be so hard.  

I’ve got, three or maybe four places I go.
I’ve got, six or maybe seven people I know.
And I’ve got so many reasons to say goodbye,
And I’ve got so many reasons to finally let myself grow.
And all I need, is to let some things go. 

I could sell all my old clothes,
And I could hope you meet me in Heaven.
I’m no where near an adult, so don’t judge me when I say,
I could sell all my old clothes.
So don’t judge me when I ask about Heaven.

I’ve got to be covered in sounds, never to be left alone.
The more time I spend being heady, the more I write and the less I learn to know.
I’m not even hurt, I’m just uncomfortable.
Do I get new skin in Heaven?
All I need, is to learn to like the quiet.