Dear First

I thought you were long forgotten, but of course you're not. The memory of you is like a drug, the tears are my high. Every time I feel sad, your face surfaces from the depths of my subconscious, calling out to me, tempting me to join it in the fathoms of depression. And who can refuse your face? I sure as hell couldn't.

I've tried to use this sadness as inspiration for music, but nothing I create can capture the depth of the feelings I had for you. I think it's best to wallow in it for a bit. At least it's easier than pretending I don't care, that I never did. You never did.

It would be easier if it was just the one time. If you were the only one who didn't love me back. What if the second had, or even the third. Then it would have been easier. But of course they didn't. Who would? I wouldn't have.

It's tough. I have to change who I am, be more obvious, more flamboyant, just to convey the possibility that I could be interested in you. But then I'm no longer myself. I'm a different person than I was before, and I hate myself like that. But what's a boy to do? There isn't a right or wrong answer, and I can't blame you for not liking someone you would never have been interested in the first place. But I have to blame someone. Someone has to be responsible for causing me this pain, and it can't be me. I would never be able to live with myself if it was my own fault.

Dear First, it would be so much easier if I could hate you.

Deja Vu round 1

I used to hold merit in Deja Vu.

Believed it a sign I should be with you

But now I know better and so will you.

So will you.

You cornered the cat and you hacked the hive

Unaware of the fiends laying deep inside

No longer content to just sit and hide

And you obliged.

Your consequence - significant.

So painful you'll probably feint.

So fun we can hardly wait.

Your intentions - so deliberate

No amnesty for such as you

You should be grateful that's all we'll do.

Oh I used to have dreams of how this would go

As you once told me, just go with the flow

The ache will subside, oh so pleasurably

At least for me!

On a scale from one, to ten can you

Please tell me where the pain is at?

I fear it will end too fast.

Like Sisyphus you too, my friend

Less than normal amounts of pain

Will be your singular refrain.

Black cats, broken mirrors, who spilled the salt?!

Oh please, mummy deary, it's not my fault.

I had to get off, you know what it's like.

I'm so contrite.

Please spare me the bullshit, you whore

Consider this reciprocation

For the blatant form of condemnation

Of course who am I to judge you, dear?

After all it was my choice as well

I guess we're both going straight to hell

Dear mystery Customer..

Your jaw was a little skewed. It was a little to far to the right when you opened your mouth.
Your teeth were not straight, and there were some gaps between them.
Your eyes were muddied blue, not piercing, and not really deep. They were average.
Your clothes weren't overly impressive, and they didn't really stand out.
All in all, you were just another person who walked into my store.
And yet, you were infinitely greater than the sum of your parts.
Something about the cumulative effect of your eyes, jaw, teeth, face, clothes.. Everything, really, was stunning.
I caught you staring at me. I don't want to read into it.
When I talked to you, you were constantly smiling. I don't want to read into that either.
You asked me about who I was. I don't want to read into it.

I didn't want to. I couldn't help reading into it, anyway.

But, you were buying something for her.

Her.

It's always for her.