We broke up because "we are going too fastt" but oh babe I knew that from the first. You were storm and I wanted nothing more than to ride your storm surge until you sank. I guess I had just forgotten how it felt to be tossed around at sea.

10 things that make me not want to believe in God.
1. A child sits crying alone wishing he could take back the day he trusted a man of the cloth.
2. The hopeless feeling I get as I think about my future.
3. Isreal and Palestine
4. Syria
5. My chest being filled with pain every time I breath your name. It tastes of warms memories and vodka.
6. When I was 6 I realized how hard the world is. I told my mother and she laughed saying I dont know difficult. She beat me with a pan. I then came to two more epiphanies.
7. My mom is bitch.
8. if some people have it worse than me, this world is not a place that wants humans around
9. Evolution
10. Mega churches

10 things that make me believe
1. The way my best friends body moves when drunk, a horrible and in graceful dance of near falls and hardy laughter. This is shortly followed by loud singing and tear soaked shirts as we spill our souls.
2. How she says gods name; loud and airy with barely breathe to waste on it. I unbury my mouth from between her legs to smile at her
3. On a clear day you could see the edge of the Tennessee river valley all its spines and ridges. You knew there were trees there from the green but you couldn't see a single one.
4. A couple who looks 90 years old is walking down the road holding hands. They both smile.
5. The way you hold my hand and for a moment I can see us walking down that road, barely capable of walking.
6. Brewing coffee over a fire surrounded by snow. The only warmth lays asleep in my tent or in my cup but I have the world.
7. My friends and i riding down the road 30 miles over the speed limit blasting The Black Parade screaming its words in a futile attempt to hear ourselves over the speakers
8. The way the sun slips over the Charleston bay reflected into a million different beams turning the world orange.
9. The way she would pet my hair as I held her pretending to sleep.
10. The way she breathed as I kissed her, like a jolt of lightning surged through. She smiles into my mouth, every fucking time.

I tried to write a poem about a clock
And it's ticking
Ticking
Ticking rhythm

I wanted to tell you how much it hurt
Not to see you
You
You again

Because you were always what filled my mind
That and ticking
Ticking
Ticking going on

Now nearly two years since I wrote that... train wreck
Two years without you
You
You are so far away

Time doesn't wait on my cries for mercy, nor rewind for the bargain I offer
It just keeps ticking
Ticking
Ticking away

And me, I just keep thinking
Thinking
Thinking of you

But the most tragic part of the whole affair is that I dealt the crippling blow out of compassion, not fear or pain as I suggested. That I lied to protect her. I told her I couldn't be with her that the memory of what she had done was too great. That she should move on. And that's what she did. Already far away she some how became even further. Her number changed, Facebook deleted and address lost in the sporatic chaos that is my memory. Our relationship crippled to never again occur.
So now I am left only with her memory, the love notes she wrote me, a duct tape ring, and love notes I was too afraid to give her. And pain. Lots of pain.
All I want is for her to be here for her to laying next to me teaching me once again what it is to love. I want her blue green eyes that strike like a vikings hidden waterfall and that little gap between her two front teeth and her hips so perfectly formed to the way I would drape my arm around her. I miss her laugh and geeky smile, the way she could talk of the flow of poets and art for hours. God damn I miss her. Felicia,  I am so sorry. I was wrong.

In progress

The wind blew with a steep chill that cut straight through the kevlar and utilities. Jason looked down at the cigarette clenched in between is sunburnt fingers. From here he could see the whole city, if It could be called it that. In American terms it was only the size of a farming town in Kansas and with only two street lamps, the city was essentially non existent, floating somewhere in the fluid void of blackness before him.
In most FOBs smoking a cigarette atop a roof during black out hours is a big no no. Here, however, there hadn't been a mortar attack in months. Long before Jason stepped booted foot on this god forsaken dirt patch. He took one long last drag and put the cig out looking out on the now shimmering horizon.
Knowing the moment was soon he focused his mind and reached out for Alex, the soft presence floating in a universe of hardness, and he felt her focusing too. So far away so strained.
The connection came over him like an orgasm suddenly awash in two worlds, one of a sun rising above the Himilayan Mountains in a spectacle of fire and glory and one of the sun dropping below ungodly mostrosities of the New York skyline. He smelled cigarette smoke on her end as well and smiled inwardly at the fact he was not alone in his resurgence of bad habits.
Then he heard her. Felt her. Her every thought and vision and working spiral of mind. she was so much smarter than he, he forgot just how dumb he was when he did not have her mind to probe with every problem and puzzle. The warmth of the rising sun and her ecstasy at finding him again wash over his landscape.

You
in an ever changing world, you were supposed to be the same
in a swirling mass of planets and stars, you were supposed to be still
Amid rotating faces, among the constant shifting of who is my "friend," you were supposed to remain.
You said you would remain.
But what is far worse than all of that,
I believed you