This is going to be my first attempt at reaching colorless relief to replace the life in my weakened words.
Alleviation is throwing metaphors off cliffs onto rocks that only exist where tears land and sorrow drifts.
The blue, crashing waves no longer have a beach to meet and form one unique thing of creativity. My written words won't fade, just retreat into the fragmented complexes of their conception where not even my eyes can see.
Writers often fill voids with inconceivable metaphors and stitch their intangible fingers to their borders of reality where dull grays collide with colorful colorless colors that only a Best Friend could comprehend.
Behold, yeah, there is life in the unseen. Piano keys in waterfalls and poetry in the rivers that proceed.
Behold, yeah, laughter is the only sensation in life that will never deceive.
I need my Best Friend, alleviation is joking louder than the worlds' lies.
I'll never see him again but the pulse of our every memory replaces the hurt of distance. Closed eyes ironically light the unseen but outstretched hands do not bring him closer. Photographs are barren dimensions that defy concepts of shapes to sculptors and colors to painters. Insignificant, candid moments need not be recreated; they've never faded, never retreated, each remain stitched to bone, stitched to heart, stitched to leather.
The first insight into forever.
I'm terrified of hilarious scenarios, falling in love, Bull Terriers, I need my Best Friend to laugh at others' misfortunes and talk shit.
I need a new word for "loneliness", this kind of emotion is beyond any feeling I've ever felt. It feeds the crows perched in my home in nests of memories, spreading their wings, happy because I cry with the lights off.
Alleviation is not a process.
I'll tell my wife, my sons, I never recovered from the hardest heartbreak.
Fuck alleviation, my words have lost their counterpart, fuck my metaphors.
I need to hold her hand, I appreciate beauty more now.
The first insight into forever, I only want a life of beauty and laughter.
Justin, breed for me a female Boston Terrier who can sow together this separated beach and bury rocks that once existed where tears land and sorrow drifts.
This is going to be my last attempt at reaching colorless relief to replace the grief of losing my Best Friend.

For Justin.

If you knew Justin, either put one in the air, drink an Arnold Palmer, or bump some Bob Marley for him.
Something I learned from him was to always stand up for yourself. That doesn't mean fighting or talking shit back, just don't take any shit from anyone and always keep it real. Speak up for yourself, cut that shy shit out and speak louder than everyone else. Don't hold anything back.

Best In Peace.

I don't even know how to begin describing how I've felt since losing my best friend, Justin Ford. If I did find the words, I wouldn't say them, I wouldn't write them. The pain is too personal, it's something I don't want any of my friends to feel. I've been depressed before, and this isn't some fuckin depression. It's been 2 weeks since he passed and his funeral was by far the hardest thing I've ever had to endure in my life. They say time heals all wounds but I'm not believing that weak shit. I've never been so close to anyone so it's hard to comprehend that, for the rest of my life, he won't be there. He was one of the reasons I started writing, one of the reasons I became funnier, stopped being insecure, stopped giving a fuck of what others think about me...It was just all love. You're supposed to be the Best Man at your best friends Wedding, Godfather to their kids and shit, but never the Paul Bearer to his funeral. "It sucks" is an understatement.

Rest In Peace, Justin.
I love you, fag.