not how i imagined crossing the bar

Do you remember when I climbed on top of your church?
The shingles were slippery from the wailing gales of rain
and the insistent dripping of alcohol from now empty bottles
it was almost cathartic, as if there was some hope for redemption

Do you remember what it was like
when my life slipped through your arms?
I forgot that I never trusted anyone
when for a moment, everything was safe and warm
and you told me everything would be fine if I just let go

I was so safe on the rooftops of the world
and so sure I would be saved even if I fell
but I fell alone.

Funny how I was told that salvation
is about a personal relationship with you,
but perhaps it was just that I was really fucking wasted.
Turns out the shipwreck of a life I was in
was caused by the lack of a pilot

The bright sunset and evenin' star
calling out for me to embrace it
must have been the same one those wise men saw,
although I am told that they were ambulance lights

And believe me when I say I put up a fight
Although I don't find much solace in the fact
that I ended up with a cross right through my midsection
(talk about poetic justice)

I am sure the church got a huge kick out of that
when they started their early morning services.

(Tennyson sure lied about how peaceful
this shit is supposed to be.)

I justify my screams by the fact that I can no longer hear myself
over the blaring shrieks of crashing waves

I almost feel alive
clawing through memories and regrets and spite,
and coldness and desolation
and crystal clear replays over and over of my life

and I hope you feel it every time
hurricane gales hit me in my face down here,
I hope you feel the salt caressing my face as I float away,
drifting every way but gently,

and I hope you miss me,
and I hope you cry.


They don't let you forget anything here.