He lives, he loves, he lies...

I admit, I was in a rut. Life just seemed to be moving too fast for me to grasp. I felt like my thoughts were slipping through my fingers, and I was merely a spectator, witnessing my own life as it rushes through in a blaze of discontent. I needed to take some time and forcefully slow down - almost to a standstill. Only as I was on the brink of existence, did I at long last hear my thoughts again. My mind stopped spinning and I was able to dream once more - even if for just a moment.

There is a stillness between us, a period of restlessness that ties my stomach in a hangman’s noose. It is this same lack in noise that lives, there! in the darkness of the grave, how it frightens him beyond all things ... how it whispers dark secrets thought long forgotten ... how it enters his dreams and lets loose a foreboding gnarl. And do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost memories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreams play when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

I scream your name before I fade away...

Is this the place that I call home?

To find what I've become,

walk along the path unknown -

we live, we love, we lie.

Deep in the dark I don't need the light,

there's a ghost inside me.

It all belongs to the other side -

we live, we love, we lie.

Shedding tears of love...

You can not die of grief, though it feels as if you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes your chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you wake up in the morning and realise that you've had a good night's sleep. You are able to eat breakfast and as day turns into dusk, you find yourself being able to smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy? How dare I be glad in a world where you are no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss the ones that left too soon as much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of sorrow. So begins the cycle anew - always and forever in motion, between gratitude and grief, between life and death.

I'll take it lying down...

Like a desert in the rain...

It was one of those unexpected realisations, yet there he was, sitting near the ocean, as waves came crashing towards the shore, and he thought how beautiful it was that despite everything, he managed to return. It became so clear that it was not about the world but in fact it was all about him; the way one grows wings. He finally understood that it was not his fault, any of it. And those who still choose to point their fingers at him, are to be let go and forgiven. He sat there and had fire blazing in his eyes, ready to be raised and soar above the sky. The whole world looked at him in awe and wished if only they could understand how he came to be, for he was suddenly no longer confined to be on the ground anymore. He had wings of fire and he left a trail everywhere he went, for others to one day follow.

You make it rain, but I'll make it shower...

Too good at goodbyes...

All of the things we were hiding,

because we were young and ashamed.

Send us to perfect places,

all of our heroes fading,

and now I can't stand to be alone -

let's go to perfect places.

I've got the power...

My scars remind me that I did indeed survived my deepest wounds. Ones that were inflicted upon my heart in hopes of finishing me off forever. Yet here I stand, still marching forward, and that in itself is an accomplishment. All my scars, they bring to mind something else, too. They remind me that the damage life has inflicted on me has, in many places, left me stronger and more resilient. Better equipped to face anything life might thrown my way ... anything at all.

He is not his broken heart. He is not the weight he lost or miles he ran and he is not the way he slept all alone under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because he had nowhere to go and wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. But above all, he is not your fault. He is the muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day, but bones are stronger once they heal. He is smiling to the people that pass him by and replacing his groceries once a week and he is not sitting for hours in the shower anymore. He is the way a life unfolds and blooms and seasons come and go and he is the way spring always finds a way to turn even the coldest winter into a field of green and flowers into new life. He is not your fault.

Happiness and courage...

The role you made me play...

Vsak dan je bolj resno -

kot da bi bilo kmalu konec.

Go with no plan. Go with not sure. Go with what makes you feel insecure. Go with the snooze. Go with your hair. Go with that face that needs no repair. Go with mistakes. Go with remakes. Go without knowing if you have what it takes. Go with the tease. Go with the game. Go if no one remembers your name. Go with the “oops”. Go with no doubts. Go if it doesn’t look as good as it sounds. Go with the hunch. Go with oh fuck. Go like you’ll never run out of luck. Go with the swipe. Go with the fling. Go without wanting to put on a ring. But go out in the open and go with pride. Grab a front seat and enjoy the ride.

No one has to know...

Hello? Is anyone still there? I ask not because I expect answers or care if anyone is listening. I ask merely to make sure that what I write can be seen within the real world - for that surely means that I am real as well. That the life I am currently living is not a fabrication of my imagination. That I, as someone who comes here to burst out words that hold no real meaning, am indeed alive because of them. So as the tectonic plates of existence shift once more, I am left with a single thought; the way ahead does not need to be illuminated till its end. All you need, all we've ever needed, is to be able to see a few steps ahead, and the courage to walk, never in disbelief that one day, we might come to the end of the road. Never in disbelief that one day, we might fly.

He can join the heist...

I see how this is gonna go,

touch me, and you'll never be alone.

Island breeze and lights down low,

no one has to know.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams

You should see the things we do, baby.

In the middle of the night, in my dreams,

I know I'm gonna be with you.

So I take my time -

are you ready for it?

Dusk till dawn...

The universe is very, very big. It also loves a paradox. For example, it has some extremely strict rules. Rule number one: Nothing lasts forever. Not you or your family or your house or your planet or the sun. It is an absolute rule. Therefore when someone says that their love will never die, it means that their love is not real, for everything that is real dies. So lets suppose that we are wise enough to learn and know that truth, and yet not wise enough to control our learning and knowledge, so that we use it to destroy ourselves? Even if that is so, knowledge remains better than ignorance. It is better to know, even if the knowledge endures only for the moment that comes before destruction, than to gain eternal life at the price of a dull and swinish lack of comprehension of a universe that swirls unseen before us in all its wonder. That was the choice she made, and it is one he is making, too.

I feel again...

Island breeze and lights down low...

Touch me and you'll never be alone...

It is always important to know when something has reached its end. Closing circles, shutting doors, finishing chapters, it doesn't matter what we call it; what matters is to leave in the past those moments in life that are over. So as he was about to do just that, there was a smile dancing on his lips, although it was a wary smile, for the world is a bigger place than a little graveyard on a hill; and there would be dangers in it and mysteries - new friends to make, old friends to rediscover, mistakes to be made and many paths to be walked before he would, finally, return to the graveyard or ride with towards the moon on the broad back of her great grey stallion.

Please let him have his dream - a dream of a new life. Please let him believe that life is not an abominable self-deception. Please let him be happy, and deliver him from this dreadful tyranny of self. He has sunk low. Let him sink lower still, that he may know the truth. Teach him to love himself again, to love life. Let him truly suffer. Give him back his purity, the knowledge of the mysteries, that he has betrayed and lost. Let him be truly lonely, that he may honestly pray. Let him be happy again somewhere, if it's only together, if it's only out of this terrible world. "Destroy the world!" He cried in his heart.