And then there was you...

He shall smell the ocean, and he will enjoy the view. There is no need to be afraid, no need to trembled as his world comes tumbling down - for he has been here before, and in fact has survived so much worse. Perhaps there is still a chance. A glimmer of hope that he comes out of it not only alive, but triumphant. It is as it has forever been. Circumstances too intertwined to let loose, and the stakes too high for him to be at ease. So he shall come here and cry and overreact, and make it seem as if death is just about to knock on his door, when in fact, his life is vastly more than what you get to see, what you get to read, what you get to experience. It's the "I love you" in the morning and the smell of your hair. It's the way you make him laugh, and the way you hold your stare. It's how you make me rhyme, even when I'm shaking cold. It's everything you do for me, it's everything she told. 

Hoping to survive...

Giving all I have and more.

Time is running me over. It crashes into me and shatters me into a tiny million pieces. I hold no sway over it, and as it leaves me a shadow of my former self, I am haunted by what could have been. Once again I am at the precipice of failure. The moments of do or die make me shiver to my core, for I am no longer a child who is forgiven for making mistakes - I am supposedly an adult who has to stand by his decisions, and mine have been quite drastic. They are waiting for me to crumble, to point out how they were right and I was wrong, and how above all else, I am nowhere near who I thought I was, who I declared to be. There is no more time. No more time to grow. No more time to learn, to reach beyond. There is no more time to be better, to excel, to prove that attention is well deserved and ignorance would be a mistake. No more time to fix mistakes or to avoid a crash of unthinkable magnitude. There is no more time, for time is never time at all.

The heart wants what it wants...

Subzero temperature...

Where dead men call out...

Are you, are you,

coming to the tree?

They strung up a man,

they say who murdered three.

Strange things have happened here,

no stranger would it be,

if we met at midnight 

near the hanging tree.

The hanging tree...

At this point sorrow seems inevitable. He wonders, why can't he let go? Even after all this time? The psychosis comes out of nowhere. It takes hold and it does not let loose until something lies in ashes - either him or the people he claims to love. He fights off. Tries to maintain his composure any way he can - yet somewhere deep inside he knows he shall fail. There are no more guardian angels watching over him. No more hail marry's to come crashing from the sky and offer resolution. There is no ending to this madness, no tangible cure. No remedy which could heal his heart and give him the patience to let life unfold as it wants, not as he would like. He screams for them to go away. But the ghosts simply laugh and go about their agenda. He holds no sway. He is nobody - nobody who could impact the course of destiny. He is simply a watcher, a spectator who is powerless to swim against the current, being forced to either drown or be swept down the waterfall. To live or to die another day.

Betting the odds against it all...

Nobody's memory is perfect or complete. We jumble things up. We lose track of time. What we thought were moments that defined the very nature of who we are, in hindsight, seem frivolous and empty. We are in one place ... then another and it all feels like one long, inescapable journey. One you cannot plot, but simply try to sail as waves thunder against you. So what does it mean? What do we take away? Which pieces of the puzzle will hurt us? Haunt us? End us? Inspire us? Which memories are true, which are false, and which are better to be tucked away, far from reach, and even further from our soul? I guess you were right, you were right all along. The carousel never stops turning. You can't get off.

His dreams of grandeur slip through his fingers as easily as they were conjured in his mind. He jumps from one ludicrous scenario to another - each and every time concocting circumstances more unreal then before - while quietly wishing they might come to fruition. He stares at the sky, just as he did, just as he always will, and he imagines a world where he does not have to die. Where people will remember his actions, his marks on the wall. A world where his words shall resonate within the hearts of so many, and offer them the simple notion of peace, for they shall know that someone understands, that someone cares. He will reach this future. He shall touch and inspire. He shall be all the things they told him he cannot. He will endure and push on. He will succeed. Just wait and see.

Strung out, a little bit hazy...

I am lost in space. Time moves so fast that I am stricken with disbelief every step that I am made aware of where exactly I am, and even more distraught when I get a glimpse of what is ahead. The life I live keeps hanging in a constant state of limbo - stretching from glimmer to dust, from success to failure, from dusk to dawn. But amidst the whirlwind there is something that can calm my mind even when the greatest of winds are blowing through my hair. The answer to every question I ever asked now shines bright in front of me. There is no more wonder or seeking, no more ghosts of the past lurking their ugly head, and taking hold of my present. I no longer tremble as I walk the streets, no longer do I manifest scenarios to propel a future of ache and suffering. I am becoming whole, and I am doing so before your very eyes. Can you see it? Can you feel it? All along the answer was as simple as one, two, three. All along the answer was you.

I just came to say goodbye...

Choke me to the bone...

See me come down through the clouds,

I feel like a fool,

nothing left to give,

nothing to lose.

So come on love, draw your sword,

shoot me to the ground,

you are mine, I am yours,

so lets not fuck around.

Don't say a word...

His world is slowly dying...

He feels as if the weight of the universe is looming above him. There is no time to think things through - how to live, how to love, how to die - all seem to take shape without his consent, without him really knowing why. The world spins so fast it knocks him out of orbit, and leaves him with little to hold onto - to help him find his way. He is afraid he is going to fail, at one account at least, if not all three. He is scared that there isn't a single thing he can do to elevate his circumstances or to transcend beyond the trivial and mundane. He scrambles to make sense of developments that propel his journey into directions unknown, and leave him with sensations of gloom and disbelief. He runs towards substance to quench his nerves, but as it turns out, pains demands to be felt and there isn't anything he can do about it. He braces for impact and hopes he somehow, against all odds, makes it out alive.

Swimming in the pouring rain...

The next step in a series of random steps.

Maybe they were right. Maybe I am just too crazy to love. I feel the demons taking hold, and even though I try with all my might to keep them at bay, they take over control, and I become a mere spectator of the carnage they are about to inflict. I am in owe how you still find the strength to stay. How you hold me in your arms even as I tear you to shreds and leave only fractions of you left for me to consume at a later time. Could you be my exception? Someone who doesn't run? Someone who stays? Someone who knows me more profoundly than I even know myself? Someone who gives me every reason to stay, and the courage to lead life without fear, without the burden of mortality? Could you be the one that makes me live forever - to live forever with you?

Defeat is no longer an option. He has failed too much already to fail again, to fail once more. These are the moments in his life that will define his journey the most. That will shape him into the person he is supposed to be, needs to be. There is no more time for self-discovery or self-pity. He has crumbled and he has been rebuilt. Now he stands as tall as he'll ever be, and surely as brave as he'll never be again. Can you feel it? Can you feel the winds whispering secrets of the future? How the battle unfolds, who comes out the victor, who lies beneath the rubble of everything they erected in the name of oblivion? Be sure to listen closely, for what comes next is of crucial importance, and one would be foolish to walk away now, because as it so happens, the boy who reached the top of the mountain is about to walk towards the edge, and once again, and for the final time, jump. Jump. Jump. 

Never ask why...

Tie me to a wooden chair...

Where there is desire

there is gonna be a flame.

Where there's a flame,

someone's bound to get hurt.

But just because it burns,

it doesn't mean you're gonna die.

You just gotta get up,

and try, try, try.

Drawing my sword...

Writing has become a distractions. Life is moving so fast that I barely have time to keep up, let alone write down all the things I don't get to resolve on my own. I am torn between being someone who experiences his journey to the fullest, and that boy we have all learned to tolerate, that sits at home alone, with only his thoughts keeping him company. I miss him. I miss how I was able to be with myself and feel like the entire world was at my feet. Because as it stands now, I have become accustomed to spending time with those who fill my heart with joy and happiness - things I cannot find the inspiration to write about. I mean ... anyone can be in love, but can everyone create something of meaning? Even as I scribble down these words, I watch seconds go by that I could rather spend nourishing my relationships. I am at a loss, for this is a version of myself I never expected to morph into, yet have no choice, but to see it till the end, until I once again lie in bed, heartbroken and wishing for the life I once knew.