grasshopper

everything seems to be an itch to scratch
there seems to be no purpose to it all
just an impulse to be followed
or resisted, or ignored
but in the end, they come and go
at least, i thought so


i've scarred myself already
clawing at a patch of skin
red and bloody raw
trying to find out just how much longer
will it take to rid of this one itch
that calls for my happiness

Those empty eyes, that bleeding heart. That comforting feeling of holding so tightly onto something he had no control over. He felt it more than anything. He felt his love slowly slipping away, and the coldness filled his mind with doubt.

Had I ever loved at all? Was it even love?

He couldn't tell for sure. Perhaps it was merely sticking a girl into his ideals, into the plans he willed to happen. Marriage, moving out, a family. Did it even have to be that girl? His mind told him no. His heart said otherwise. But he no longer wished to listen to that wretched thing.

That girl had lied. She had promised him the world, and delivered nothing. Perhaps it was because she was young, but he didn't want to make excuses for her. She was different, unlike anyone he had ever met. Refreshing, and painful at the same time. He had tried to be himself. She was the only one to see that, and now she was gone.

He couldn't remember the last time he was happy. Truly. And so, he filled his nights with friends. Smokes. Alcohol. Drinks were a big thing for him. They sustained his life, helped him sleep, comforted him. What a sad feeling. If Dragon had known she would have been disappointed. He could envision her eyes, her look of pity. She never did respect him.

He vaguely wondered if she still wore the ring he gave her. The ring that was supposed to represent their love, until they met again. The dreams that had to be silenced, they haunted him. They wouldn't just go away.

Empty beer bottles littered the room. He smiled in satisfaction at the sight of them. At least something still made him feel okay. Dragon had never liked his drinking, but to hell with her. She was a thing of the past, and he no longer cared for her. At all. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself, all the time.