Addicted to the Fantasy

Spent my whole life

Addicted to the Fantasy

of "Meant to Be"

Injecting hit after hit
of that drug called Love
Refusing to quit
Even after the track marks
left me scarred
Leaving my heart raw and marred
Coming down from the high
my sunken eyes can barely recognize
who I am anymore
Addicted to the dream
of "Happily Ever After"
Finding perpetual disaster
It's time to put the needle down
and delete the dealer's number
Before my soul gets buried six feet under 

Garden against Garden

One side of me is hunched

from the weight of The Watering Can 

that I've used to help Your Garden grow 

from little more than sand.

The first seeds I planted were Carnations,

whose sickly sweet scent burned my nose.

But, the sacrifice of My Petals 

was not enough to make the flowers grow.

The next time I planted Marigolds,

caring for each and every blossom until it hurt,

cutting myself on the rocks and roots 

hidden beneath the overmoistened dirt.

Despite the pain, I tended and toiled

with the Hyacinth I nestled into the ground.

It blossomed for many long seasons.

Then, it withered without a sound.

I did all I could to keep Your Garden green.

My body twisting as The Can pulled me down.

I planted Petunias and Poppies

just to watch them each turn brown.

In this last attempt to grow Your Garden,

I planted grass both tall and thin.

It grew vibrant and lush,

but the smallest touch sliced my skin.

One side of me is hunched 

from the weight of tending Your Garden alone.

When I turn to seek more water,

I see the barren land that is my own.

Shadow Love

The Mean Reds

Crescendo