'Just give it a couple days',

I said, feigning ignorance, faking hopefulness,

Wishing more than anything for anything besides more crying,

More fear,

More paranoia,

More useless bullshit.

While waiting on a response I gave myself an ultimatum,

"Grow up or give up",

As some kind of half-assed attempt at getting things right.

And look where we are now…

Still spitting the same half-truth bullshit into each other's mouths,

Spouting how it'll "all be over" soon and "things will get better.

Well, love

I may be a great liar but I'm a terrible person.

This bright new horizon has turned out to be nothing more than leftover storm clouds, lit by nuclear explosions and while we're riding this mushroom cloud home to hell, I want you to remember everything you never said and all the things I never did right.

I'm realizing now just how fucked we are, just how doomed we are, just how done we are. I don't want to move on, out, up, or anywhere else. I just want to stay here, in this shit-filled room, in this memory trap, in this unusual haven we've made. Something out of nothing, right? Fuck, we've built everything out of nothing just to lie low and wait for the bombs to go off.

Well, I'm fucking sick of waiting.

I'm sick of waiting for an answer,

Be it salvation or a death sentence.

I'm tired of not sleeping,

And I'm out of excuses.

When nothing helps and nothings fixes anything,

Where do we go?

When every solution is one more inch in our grave,

What do we turn to?

When waking up means more nightmares, more shaking, more nothing…

What do we have left?

Each other.

In all of our misery and fear,

Awash in all of our problems and let downs,

We have each other.

And we've lived through enough, haven't we?

We've sobbed through enough losses and bled through enough fights,

Questioned too many betrayals and held tight to the few reunions in between.

So this?

This is nothing.

This is a drop in the drowning pool,

A thread in the noose,

And just a splinter in the gallows.

Let the answers come,

Be them good or bad.

Let the gavel drop,

And all that other poetic bullshit.

For better or worse, right?

For richer or fucking homeless,

Through the thin and nonexistent…

I will carry you,

I will hold you

And we will endure.