Riding a rickshaw through the uneven lines in my hair that I made when I tried cutting my hair

 I tried to be a changed man,
so I shaved the sides of my head,
but it quickly grew back out,
now I'm drowning in pointless doubt.

Could it be what you said,
cause it haunts me when I'm in bed.
Few words on repeat,
just seem stuck in my head.

I tried to be a changed man,
but habits don't die young,
running up on empty,
ever since I left me.
And my confidence is tanking,
I just need my better half,
but they're all getting busy
with things that never meant.
So how's the weather, lady?
and is your dog eating well?
Should I bother bout your family,
cause you seem so uninterested.

A not so titanic move from someone who wants to be called a man

So now the girl I want you to be is just a memory.
And you may not be a hero, maybe that is not you.
You may not be out to save the world, but you saved mine.

And that geometry test, 
the one I know you haven’t studied for it,
even though it’s next period, 
I know you’ll ace it.
Like you always do.

I’m sorry for telling myself you’re what I want you to be,
and I’m sorry for ordering the pizza you’re allergic to, 
I thought you still enjoyed it.
Things change,
as they should. 

But it doesn’t mean that my memory of you will,
you’ll forever be my friend,
you’ll forever have a home, 
and most importantly you’ll forever be in my memories.

The story of the anthropomorphic pizza that's been laying there for a few weeks now

I got you on my mind,
haunting me most of the time,
like 24/7-11,
pizza on my floor,
laughing at the matter,
of me locking my bedroom door.

Fearful of the fact,
that you always come back,
keeping windows shut,
just to keep the thought out.

Middle age crisis hits harder when it's before the quarter age crisis

At twenty-two,
I can’t afford spending my life with you.
And once I hit forty-four,
I’ll make sure to never cross the front door.

Half way down,
holding a glass in which I always drown,
waste the nights on sin,
just to hold everything within.

And now at thirty-three,
I hope I’m happy with me.
Praise the mistakes and tethered sounds,
hold me down cause I overstepped the bounds.

I wouldn't pull a Hannibal on you, I just want to understand what you're going through... Wait.... Wasn't he a psychiatrist?

I just wanna wake up,
wearing your skin,
see from your humble perspective,
the pain gone undetected.

And I just gotta hold on,
to your words,
feel the sorrow and sadness,
masked by redness,
of your cheeks,
when you go on your own,
listening to the same songs,
just to be reminded of your old friends.

I just wanna wake up,
right beside you,
see how peaceful you are,
now that the pain has gone,
away.

FB Group where we all pretend we are in the same venue

Within a prison of pictures and songs,
humming birds listening to my shameful tones.

Screaming my lungs out,
to the lyrics that I read wrong,
acting as if this venue is still my own.

With a lonely ghost inside my home,
I am stuck between flesh and bone,
with nothing but memories going through my veins,
poor choices with consequences that remain.

The line-up is nonexistent,
and the scrapbook setlist insufficient,
now I know why you called yourself a musician.

Within a prison of rights and wrongs,
your heart is what I want to call my home.

Katherine what do you keep in your Knapsack?

Last time we spoke,
you called out my cheek bones,
with a soft touch,
smile's born.

But no one can love you,
the way that you'd want to.
When they're with you.

So you stand up,
and you brush off,
move on,
and got out.

But you can't be faithful,
if you want to be strong,
you're never wrong.

Yet no one can love you,
the way that you'd want to,
when they see you.