lean on me.

i have no role models.

i have no one i can go to for advice. or to talk about life. and what to expect.

everything i have done, was accomplished without the help of a pillar.

that's probably why i have accomplished nothing.



the few things my father has told me weren't ground breaking, but they were something.
most of my friends are in the same situation. and because of this we have leaned on each other, sometimes. but friendship only goes so far.

this past week i got pneumonia. if it wasn't for all the women in my life telling me to go to the hospital, i probably would have just died, alone.

seeing as i was close to death, things changed in my view. i felt calm.

i felt like i was ready. laying there in the hospital emergency room with a cold i.v. sticking out of my arm.
i could have gone.

happily.


i'm always ready to give up.

i have no fight in me.

i was talking at sam the other day, still recovering, and the same thing always comes up. i always say... i dont live in the same world as everyone else.

i believe this.

and sam just watched t.v.




when i needed my father, he let me down. and in turn, i have done the same thing to everyone i have ever cared about.

i will always hold on to a tiny spark i saw once in this life.

i felt it. and i will never let that go. even if everyone else has.

something strange happened that summer in 2000, everyone kept moving forward... and i stayed in the same place.

i stopped to look at the stars ten years ago, and now i cant find my way back.


i guess this is just me telling you that im not doing alright.


you were the lion within the lamb.
my way back home in the dark.
but something wanted you back

and my selfish mind wont let you go

who do you tell your stories to now?
do you still smile like before?

do you miss me?

and when it came... did he give you a chance.
before the end.

did you think of me, before you went?

did you think of me, before you went?









i couldn't make it if i tried.










Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?