This rush of self medication works, but living in a blur is fleeting. It's been quite the trial and error process with you. Love drained, hate filled, drug induced..teenage dirt bag. All that remains is a hidden secret..writing words that only you can translate. Obvious only in the painful throbbing of a bass line or the grass or faint tears nobody can see because you're wearing dark glasses. You don't fuel the lighter-only the fire. Sorrows drown before they make into a conversation. we don't talk about the cause- only rebel against it...at last relishing the freedom from the memories we so despise. the only fiction is the silence, the blank spaces on pages where certain confessions are not told. that is all part of the freedom. in silence the despair is put on mute, strangled to insignificance. and yet the silence is what cuts us the deepest. you break me when you say those things. Still, I believe we did with passion what we so desired-we felt thing so deeply. ..but it wasn't enough. Nothing is ever enough, for me. I'll send the bad memories under. I try to run away again, to somewhere better, for some thing higher.