The Base of Your Neck

Your blood spills into rain
in a small form of pure destruction
your own,
you're on your own
single seed which I wrote about planting
and filled with love
we see so pure
but destroyed by the media you read
or just your small mind which understands it

In time we live
and this time has passed from missing
to wishing for an end
maybe to what was
maybe to you all together
or maybe to the awful thoughts which come less frequently
now, if at all
or when I held your hand through your last breath
as if a future can be held

Now is the future I was promised
many months ago and I am glad to be breathing
without your life support.
Now there is not loneliness,
because that can be solved by other "lovers,"
more of regret and bits of hate
for myself
for being unknowing, unthoughtful, unwilling
to realize the truth
ignorant to fall
for something so young and sad

I'm sure we could make a painful list of many things
I hate about who I was, or you were
but I've narrowed it down to
crying
and
honesty,
as a man
I have learned to live without both


In this life now
I learn
I have tattooed your life
and I am deeper than your skin
silently I can still creep up inside you
like a wanting for those drugs you take
but hardly speak of
and I am sorry if these words are rude
or if you were expecting more,
there is no human more than me
yes,
I am the boy all those singers sing of
so keep listening to my song