"Dead and in Love"

Everything’s fading away and I’m so high I can’t breathe. As of now, I’m wondering if there’s something I should know about the combination of cocaine and xanex. Is it deadly, I don’t know for sure but it sure as hell feels like it. I imagine it feels something like heart ache but I wouldn’t know for sure, I’ve been in love for years. Heart ache is simply a memory, one of those I blocked out and forgot.

My lover is holding my hand. Her eyes, they’re unexplainable. As blue as the ocean, they won’t stop pulling me under. Her blonde hair reminds me of something called heaven, something I’ll never see. Sometimes I wonder why this happened but I’ll never know the truth, not within the next ten minutes. Not unless there is a god and he’s teaching me one of those lessons I’ve read about on billboards or heard about in my dreams. Somehow, I doubt it. I fucking hate Christianity, along with the hypocrites that follow in blindness. But that’s irrelevant, I’m dying and I’m so in love I can’t breathe.

Everyday before this I wondered why suicide always sat in the forefront of my mind, tearing at my every thought, forcing it’s self to be seen. Then I remembered, I’m a product of the twenty first century, raised on depression and soap operas, divorce and despair, emotion and sex, the instant orgasm, sitcoms made of bull-shit. Her hand is sliding down my face now, I feel every tingle shocking my senses, pulling what’s left of me through her fingertips. Oh how I don’t want to leave, not now, not that she’s here. The pills mixed with methamphetamines are ripping at my brain now, slowly killing me the way my twenty first century heart has been doing my entire life. But this is all an illusion, according to the television, it’s simply a flashback, something I imagined and then recreated in my mind or in a script. If only.

Her blue eyes are ripping me apart, I can’t imagine my world without her, so I’ll just end it in the most selfish way possible and I’m so high I can’t breathe. With every breath after this I’m going to imagine floating in her eyes, swimming through her pupils and sleeping in her arms. Three of the most beautiful reasons I ever had for living. I ever had for crying.

If only I was laying on a beach, staring at the stars and remembering all those friends I held on to. Imagining the way it felt when when my lips first touched true love and graced the truest hand I’ve ever held. If only. Maybe then I wouldn’t regret this so much. Her eyes are a reflection of the ocean, painted with pastel and covered in beauty, more stunning than god could ever be. Ripe with tears that slowly slide toward my face. It’s almost as if they are longing to touch me one last time, longing to tell me goodnight. One last time.

At this point in my life I can honestly say I’m happier than ever. Just holding her gives me the strength to smile and I’m so in love I can’t breathe. Her body fits as perfect as a puzzle piece, holding what’s left of me together. Copying my heart, her’s is never a beat behind. And if you open you’re eyes you can truly smell death in the room. Drowning out all chance of hope. I really wish I wasn’t dying, I don’t want to, not now that she’s here. Not now. I’ve never felt this whole.