Without You I'm Nothing At All

Strange infatuation seems to grace the evening tide
I'll take it by your side
Such imagination seems to help the feeling slide
I'll take it by your side
Instant correlation sucks and breeds a pack of lies
I'll take it by your side
Oversaturation curls the skin and tans the hide
I'll take it by your side

Tick tock
Tick tock
Tick tick
Tick
Tick
Tick tock

I'm unclean, a libertine
And every time you vent your spleen
I seem to lose the power of speech
You're slipping slowly from my reach
You grow me like an evergreen
You've never seen the lonely me at all

I
Take the plan, spin it sideways
I
Fall
Without you I'm nothing
Without you I'm nothing
Without you I'm nothing
Take the plan, spin it sideways
Without you I'm nothing at all

Sometimes I think I want a love that lasts forever. And I cannot help but laugh at myself. Perhaps the notion is too feminine. Or merely too childish.

Maybe it's just the fear.
The fact that I am too afraid of losing who I am, who I've fought so hard to be.

I think it's the late hours. That time of night when the moon calls me hard, and I can feel the tide rushing with the blood in my veins.

I want to find something to blame it on. But there is only me. And I know it. A fact that although I am wholly myself I still feel incomplete. And I'm not too sure what it is that is missing, I only know the wound is there and it's bleeding me out. I am tired of fruitless expectations. I am tired of myself.
I. Need. ?

I'd break my right arm to figure it out. A prospect that is as horrifying as it is the truth.

I hate this feeling and the way it creeps up on me. No matter what I'm doing, enjoying; it's just suddenly there and it's everywhere and I feel as though I'm drowning, suffocating, imploding in on myself. With no reason. No cause.
Hunker down further, because this is going to end badly.
With no end is sight, that's all I can hope for...

Suicide

Every night
You wrote another line
With a bloody, broken, bottle
And every day
You wish it away
Why don't you pull the pin
On that grenade
You cuddle

I wanted to believe
Bodies swinging from trees
Struggling to stand
With your head in your hands
A stoic last stand
Of a dying man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand...
I did not understand...

Every night
The questions poured out
Of your wounded eyes
Damn dark things
Every day
You used to pray
Listen to the black raven sing
You wanted to believe
As you were falling to your knees
Struggling to stand
With your life in your hand
The sad last stand
Of a broken man

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
And I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand...
I did not understand...

I wanted to believe
As I watched your world
Crumble in your hands
I wanted to believe
As you raised your glass
To your last stand
I wanted to believe
You would win
The war in your head
That I did not understand
I did not understand

And the questions poured out
And the questions pour out
I did not understand
I did not understand
I did not understand
I did not understand
The sound of you falling
I did not understand
As the trembling heart of a dying man
Did not understand
The sound of a trembling heart

I wonder why there is such stigma with suicide. Or with death in general. I often think about killing myself. And it's not that I am unhappy - because I am in fact Happy. I really like my life and who I am - and don't get me wrong it seems to be going on a bender hard and fast. However, above all things, I know who I am. And I don't worry. Something that seems to be swiftly maddening to those whom I choose to surround myself with. Especially my kittens.

I don't know. Sometimes it just seems that Death is the last Great Adventure I have waiting for me.

I am in Need of an adventure.

So desperately so that when I think of it I cannot breathe and my body is frozen in some silent prison, shaking with the need to explode violently into it.

Perhaps it's not my suicide that's bizarre. But the fact that when I picture it, I'm never caught. If I'm found at all. Sometimes I think I'll just wink out like a star, silent and lost among the thousands that capture your eyes. Overlooked or maybe misplaced and forgotten. And while I think I should feel sad at being forgotten, I rarely am. At worst I'm empty and at best I'm amused. But never sad. Never down.

Maybe it's because I believe that I will be here long after this body and earth has gone from existence. That I am me because I am the soul, the god I have spent so long looking for. I am the burning need that gets me through the bad days, and lifts me to flight on the good.

Empty because I don't need you.

Amused because I loved you and wanted you with me regardless of your concerns.

I don't need you. Any of you. And that should mean something great to you. Something wonderful and fantastic. Because you shouldn't need me either. Ferociously Independent. I want to be like the sea. Like the earth. Completely capable of severing you from myself at any and all costs.

So you will know how precious it is that

I Want You