not one of us knows the end.

There's this catchy little song that is stuck in my mind.
Got no way of explaining it, not even sure if it's mine.
So we get fired up by the littlest, smallest things.
Could use that vice but instead i think i'll sing
words i make up instead of retreating to the path i've been
down time and time again. There is no way i can belong
to another when I ain't even over that woman
who tore me into two. Started off way back when
I wasn't even able to comprehend love or commitment.
Not a day goes by where I don't wonder about my decisions-
if maybe, just if, I hadn't been lost in
disillusions about what romance should be. That relation-
ship must have been the closest to completion
I have ever had the privilege of knowing.
It's just I always ponder if she has any clue, even
in the slightest bit just how much those night's meant
to me. It's still the smallest of things
that I blow up out of proportion and then
sit back to watch the smoke clear. Stare at the ruin
I leave in my outburst of volcanic explosions.
Anger and passion go hand in hand or so I've been
told. Ambition is a bastard of our forefather's children.
Do you think maybe if I just didn't show my concern
for never gonna be able to grow old with a woman;
then I'd find that girl who just was looking in
all the wrong places for a boy who wouldn't cave in
to all her little demands? We were, once upon
a time, great friends before we found out first hand
just what that longing of our inside organ's were designed
for. Now we never speak, not face to face, for so long
it's getting harder and harder to even remember the passion
at all! So darling girl just please believe in my talent's.
In my autobiography I won't describe your innocence
but I will do you justice as I tell the audience
it was always you, all along, ever word I've written
was and is meant for your ears and your ears alone.
Even before I knew you existed before I seen
you in that math class and it was then I started believing
in the theory that everything does happen for a reason.
If I hadn't been such a renegade, a youth in constant
revolt I never would have met such a lovely young darling.
Jesus, I ponder if it hadn't been for you or the longing
for a perfect duet to sing one of my undesirable sonnet's
if I'd still keep on singing all of this time- keep writing
these verses knowing they may never ever be made in
to anything other than a constant ache in the back of my mind.
So just keep on wearing your make up and keep sportin'
those dresses as you search all over this rottin'
city of ours for a boy who can give you it all, not one thing
more or less than everything you've been hoping
for! Just keep reading these pages like you were honest
once upon a time. That maybe those whispered things
you said on my bedside were told with something other than
just to get what you wanted that night. A little wine
and cocaine will do you just right, you said, so now and again
I drink water but mostly I just enjoy feeling this dehydration.
Whiskey is best when it's warm or straight with a shot of gin.
You know it's all in fun this fiction I have always been
able to write at the whisk of a whim; but then again
maybe it's all in pretext's and analogies that I keep giving
out like candy at a pop shop. It's just the ending
I can never give up with out charging everyone something.
No, it's not fair, I agree with you on that one;
but every single day I find myself living down
on my knees, praying to the sky to break in half and drown
us with tears of angel's and god's alike. Do you find
that in these verse's there is bits and pieces of you written
in all of these stanza's and psalms? If so then you haven't
read between the lines; 'cos I to have a confession
to make this evening. Are you ready? Are you sitting down?
either way I to just tell lies. almost every thing
I ever told you has been one giant fib, just trying
to get in your pants one last time before we are all drowning.