any cross up or down is a curse
nothing but a fashion statement
taken from the fiction section at the bookstore
big bad scary crossbearing wolves
who are just fucking sheep loyal to no cause

every where i walk its the same billboards using camo
they advertise the pearls and i know the message below
OBEY. CONSUME. SLEEP. DRINK.
FLESH. DRUGS. BEER. SEX.
if im the only one awake in a nightmare
i want to pull my head off
and show the world what being awake is like
no one knows. no one cares.
no one calls. no one cares.
who really cares
when theyre all face down in their own vomit
lapping it up and telling themselves
"what a lovely dinner for tonight were going to have"

your love is a one way street
leading to the driveway with the neighbors brown lawn
you talk unrequited and unmatched
when you havent learned to love yourself
telling me i am omega well fuck you i am not
telling me i am alpha well fuck you i will not
telling me it makes you sick well fuck you and drop
telling me ill never know well fuck you i know
living the double life. keeping one in the dark.
someone will expose the film and ruin the shot
your dead end cul de sac love is exactly that
and you cant fathom the damage
until you find out your own

dear old friend, its me again
its going to be us for this time again
and i promise this time i have much more to write to you
and i promise this time i have much more anger for you
i want to believe you want to change
but i cant believe in any of that. its strange
i still read the things you speak
and its so strange but i know they arent for me
theres always someone else when theyre never there
when theyre never there i can never be there
you see its not just me its just as much you
and there is no us without u
i am just as torn up as i know i am
and youll tell me youre torn up like i am
well i dont think you know what its like being lied to
after a person tells you you are finite and omega
well you were finite and alpha
somewhere i believe i faultered though you wont tell me
ill just have to take my services and eyes elsewhere
somewhere a bunkhouse for the broken and lonesome
somewhere a dusty campground for the vile and vicious
i hate to be the paul bearer to a funeral of one
and i hate to be the priest that gives only a eulogy
someone has to say it and i know its not you
the more this goes on the more i know in my head and heart
im saying goodbye to you.
more and more each day its only growing
and the distance isnt going to kill me this time like before.