My pretty face, my electric soul...

When you and I were forever wild,

the crazy days, the city lights,

the way I'd play with you like a child.

Will you still love me

when I'm no longer young and beautiful?

Will you still love me

when I've got nothing but my aching soul?

It burns when I cry...

I keep you at arms length because I am afraid. There is no simpler truth than that. I'm scared that I'd let myself love you too much, that I would fall beneath the weight of the pressure I would feel to make you happy. It happened before, and I don't trust myself enough to see if our story would unfold any differently. I hope you know that even though I might not show it, you have taught me more about who I am than anyone that came before. You make me smile in ways I never thought another person could and somehow, you are a habit I cannot shake. We've been at this game for many months, but it feels as if we meet each other anew every single time you lay in my arms, and I lay in yours. You came into my life when I was lower than I dare to admit, and you saw me through thick and thin - even when things got ugly, even when I begged you to leave. Perhaps one day, when the stars align, and we find ourselves gazing at each other from across the room, we shall suddenly have the courage to do what must be done. It will not be a glorious spectacle, but a quiet remembrance, and the most trivial of choices to forget what has happened, and start building a union which can overcome the greatest of struggles and the biggest of love's.

There's a monster under my bed...

Boy meets world...

I will race and I will run...

I have always believed that my history defined me. That where I was, is a clear indication of where I'm going. But now I think it's time to either fall back on what I know, on who I've been falling back to for the better part of this year, or perhaps take a step forward, towards something new, towards someone new. I'd be lying if I said I never cared about you, because I did, and for a split second there I truly thought you were the love of my life, yet as it turns out, the love I needed all along, doesn't come from another person - it comes from me. The satisfaction of knowing that I am enough for myself, has filled me with an endless stream of serenity. And while you might resurface here and there, and I might indulge some of my primal needs, know that as you look into my eyes, you shall see only a reflection of yourself, and gain no understanding of who I am or who I want to be.

As the floodgates barely hold all his sorrow and all his rage, it is evident that something has to change. Something has to give. He has put in the work, and he has dried the tears which have been wept, now all that remains is the long march across no-man's land, to the very edge of the world, then right back home. A journey without a clear start, without any road signs whatsoever, and with bumps and perils at every turn. One of incomprehensible magnitude and of dire consequence for not only him, but every single person in his life, for his inevitable downfall shall resonate into a future of discontent, and as always misery has a way of twisting reality, of destroying friendships and burying lost loves. Yet his swan song is far away, because this is only the beginning, and this is his game face - ready for everything, ready for anything.

Stop holding your breath...

I have decided it has to end - slowly, yet with firm conviction. For a moment there I really thought they could have been the exception to the rule, yet as it turns out I have once again come full circle. It's no longer a question of who's at fault - because I am quite clearly the common thread. Is it psycho that I find a small amount of enjoyment in it? That I somehow feed off the broken bonds and sustain myself from the ashes of burnt down connections? It is, and I know I am, but it's who I've always been and I don't see anything wrong with that anymore. If I've learned anything, as I was forced to survive recent hardships, is that I am worthy of attention, of consideration. I am worthy of love. While many have come and gone, and I have this sneaking suspicion that many more are on their way, I find myself uplifted by the simple notion that I was right to trust the universe to guide me down a path of certain uncertainty, towards a destiny of gruesome developments and the greatest of lives.

I'm friends with the monster

that's under my bed,

I get along with the voices

inside of my head.

The curious case of Karr...

I shall lie here as I have laid for centuries and I will imagine a world of content - one where dreams come to fruition, and true love never dies. I shall concoct a fantasy of warm winters, of sunny springs and of breezy summers, where the only thing, which will matter, is your hand in mine as we walk home with twilight painting the sky. This make-belief existence shall transcend logic and reason, it will grow beyond the tangible and the graspable, above the minuscule and irreversible - a life waiting to be repeated and experienced in different ways. The tears we have wept will spawn an ocean of purity, one born of pain and solitude, which can now give birth to the unimaginable and mystical. In our world the boulevard of broken hearts shall be a wasteland inhabited only by creatures of the night, while the souls it captured will run free. For above all else, I am a dreamer of dreams, a painter of blank canvases, and a writer given a story and all the paper in the world to write it down - yet as it turns out, the moments of true inspiration are fleeting, and our mortality is a curse we cannot shed. As I take the first steps to bring forth the kind of change that awakens the slumbering, I am overcome with debilitating fear. Failure has never felt more intimate and detrimental, with everything at stake, but really, nothing at all.

I'll be chasing the clouds...

Time is frozen...

For this brief instant in time there is no room for lies. Here, he shall be honest, even if it hurts, even if it makes him bleed. A broken soul won't mend unless you want it to, and while the pain might feed his passions, we must never forget that sometimes the heart can be the most potent remedy. To this day he does not know exactly why he loved you or why he found himself shattered when he did not receive the second chance he was certain he deserved. Perhaps it wasn't true love, but it was the closest thing he's ever felt, and even though he was left wanting and alone, he still believes that you are the best person he's ever cared for. Memories of a time spent embraced in each other's arms are starting to fade around the edges, but surely he will never forget you completely. For a few moments there, you were the most important thing he was able to claim as his own. You were the one who gave meaning to every stupid song, and every cheesy lyric about love, lust and happiness. You were the one who had his heart and soul, but never bothered to do anything with them. In another life, maybe you would have let him stay, but in this reality, you will always be the one that got away. 

We never really had a doubt...

Maybe I'll be the one to save me...

When I reach the unreachable, when I can finally say that I've won, I don't want it to be because of a lucky break, or because I was at the right place at the right time - I want to win, because I've earned it. I want to be acknowledged for who I am, for the struggle I've endured, and the sacrifices I've made. I want to be known as someone who has experienced life, its warmest colours and its coldest depths. I want to be validated, and I want my choices to echo into a future of success, of earnest living and one without regrets. I want to be the man she promised I'd be, the man who can sing even though he shouldn't, the man who can listen without hearing a sound. I want to win because I was right, because I was strong enough to accept defeat, and stubborn enough to keep going anyway. I want to prove you wrong, each and every one of you. I want to be able to look into your eyes and scream at the top of my lungs, that at long last, I've made it.

Just give me a reason...

I let you see the parts of me

that aren't all that pretty,

but I'm not broken,

I'm just bent,

and I will learn to love again.

My demonic cravings...

I wanted a different life. She told me if I dreamt hard enough it would come true, yet I've been dreaming for the past five years, and I am still here, confined by the walls of reality, grasping for air where there isn't any at all. I feel lost in the mundane, the ordinary I promised I'd never settle for. Some days it seems as though I have given everything I have, but my wings have still yet to sprout, and I am falling with such magnitude that I shall reach bottom sooner than anyone had imagined. I find little solace in the people around me, because as it turns out, once she died there was no one who understood me as profoundly as she did. They have all been mere distractions from the fact that once you let someone know you as deeply as she knew me, you will never again allow anyone in - at least not in ways that matter.

I think there aren't any easy answers. Even when I take a day off like this one, bundle myself behind my computer, write page after page of nonsense that will never be read, I somehow feel as if I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. The resolve I seek shall not be granted without pain, suffering and work ... so much work. It's time for me to stop talking the talk, and start walking the walk. If I want to be a writer, a real writer, I need to write. And I know that sounds like a given and it sounds easy as one, two, three, but committing to something and then actually following through has never been simple. When I'm such an annoyance to myself, there is truly nothing left to do, but to let go of the people who have somehow, against all odds, walked into my life, and move on to a different kind of existence. One with less deceit, and always without question, one with a better version of myself. A version that deserves more love, more respect, more laughter than the one before. A version I shall forever chase, yet never catch.

It's magic when I'm with you...

I'm best when I'm all I've got...

He takes a match and lights the biggest fire they have ever witnessed, then he simply stands there and watches it burn. There are no emotions running through his veins, no strands of regret vying their way up his spine. He is like a monument being erected from the ashes of every false hope he has ever given. For a moment there he truly believed that this time it would be different, that you'd be different, but as it turns out he cannot escape the simple truth that he will never be satisfied with the love he feels, the friends he has, and the dreams he conjures. There will always be a step beyond, a higher plane to explore, a greater life to achieve. He hunts for rejection, because it fuels his passion. He lusts for stories, so he doesn't have to fabricate them by himself. Yet the saddest part of all is that he does not want to change - at least not in ways that would matter. Or maybe deep down, he wants to change with all his heart, but is lacking the courage to let go, and accept happiness where it is offered for free. The answers are hidden somewhere dark, where sunlight has yet to breach, and perhaps never will.

There's no looking back...

Out from the rubble,

black from the flames,

I know my heart is dying for rain.

All of the whispers stealing my breath,

they got me thinking,

this is as good as it gets.