Don't know what else to do...

Fever dream high...

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity once one can imagine within the compounds of this universe: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.

No rules in breakable heaven...

Hang your head low,

in the glow of the vending machine.

I'm not dying,

you say that we'll just screw it up,

in these trying times.

We're not trying,

so cut the headlights, summer's a knife.

I'm always waiting for you,

just to cut to the bone.

Devils roll the dice, 

angels roll their eyes,

and if I bleed, 

you'll be the last to know.

To find what I lost in another...

There's something about the thousands of glittering lights, the veil of nighttime that almost makes this place beautiful, especially in the reflection of the water. It makes everything askew, disoriented. There's more truth in a ripple of water than in a clear day. And I found the whole ordeal to be quite wild and a bit unsettling to be completely honest, like a tame horse realizing there was once an opportunity to be unbridled that was somehow missed. Such thoughts haunt me now and then. Especially on cloudy nights when the stars fail to appear. I miss them terribly. But I know in my heart they are still there and, sometimes knowing has to be enough.

Addicted to betrayal...

I only pray when I need a favor...

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean it ... I'm sorry, okay?" He says, his tone softening into despair. He knows he is probably overreacting and on the verge of berating himself. It's not often he allows himself to lose control, and he'll be damned if he does it anytime time soon, at least not again for a long time. But his epiphany came too late of course. He tried to redeem himself by becoming someone else entirely but he still cannot completely trust the change, even after all these years. Sometimes he pushes just to see what will happen. Nothing ever does.

And I remember just standing there in the fading afternoon light, realising at twenty that I was already staring into my past - that it had a meaning that would always define me. A journey interrupted. A boy thrust into the unknown, chasing a fate not even he could fully imagine. I remember this being one of my first moments nearing adulthood, when I was truly able to grasp how powerful memory was - or at least it was the first time it hurt the most. And there was nothing I could do about the pain of the past - it just settled over me, something to stay with me forever onward. 

A little bit happy...

Old scars I keep in jars...

Something began to happen within me that I did not have the means to comprehend, like a disintegration and re-amalgamation of my soul. What I had no hope to communicate in words began to reveal itself in whatever way it could: in a smile, in a teardrop, in an exhalation that gave heat to the wind. As everything familiar began to mix with the unknown, an awareness began to galvanize from somewhere deep inside of me that I was on my way to becoming something far greater than just one of the many forked paths that whirled before me. In a way, I would become all of them, and more. It was like I had not one, but an infinite number of existences, all of which were true. In that moment, as I stood in the center of my own expanse of possibility, I felt the full immensity of life, for I’d just realized I was limitless.

Even tippy's birds went home...

Turns out all of my highs 

are making love to my lows,

making fun of my boundaries, 

sticks and stones,

you say love, 

I believe it to the bone.

Old souls don't know...

It's strange how what drives us may abandon us midstream, how what tickles our ears with lies one moment may tell us truths that knock us on our emotional ass the next. After all, it is an unbelievably real world, each of us explores possibility, hungry for sustaining adoration, yet we know enough to render ourselves helpless. We strive and strain, bellow and believe, we learn, and everything we learn tells us the same thing: life is one great meaningful experience in a meaningless world. Brilliance has many parts, yet each part is incomplete. We live, heal and attempt to piece together a picture worth the price of our very lives.

I guess I could just pretend...

Dealing with the cards life dealt...

He's wearying to escape into that glorious world, and to be always there: not seeing it dimly through tears, and yearning for it through the walls of an aching heart: but really with it, and in it.

I've made my own hunger into a practice, made everyone who passes through my life subject to a close and inappropriate reading that occasionally finds its way, often insufficiently, with words onto pieces of paper. And when I am alone with myself, this is what I am waiting for someone to do to me, with merciless, deliberate hands, to put me down as metaphors and long winded sentences, so that when I’m gone, there will be a record, proof that I was, despite everything, here. Alive for the briefest of moments in time.

Wanted it all my life...

Walking a million miles...

I want to hear your breath just next to my soul,

I want to feel oppress without any rest,

I want to see you sing,

I want to see you fight,

because you are the real beauty of human right.

Like waiting for a bus that never shows...

Sometimes I have thoughts that even I don't understand. Thoughts that aren't even true - that aren't really how I feel - but they're running through my head anyway because they're interesting to think about. I guess a thought is harmless unless I believe it. It's not the thoughts themselves, but my attachment to my thoughts, that causes suffering. Though I cannot pretend I am without fear. That one day those thoughts will take hold of me. But still, my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and traveled and thought and written. Above all, I have never blocked my thoughts. I have been a free-flow thinking being, and that in itself has been an enormous privilege and adventure.

What I earned from all those tears...

When the shimmer of the past is melting into the present, spreading a scent of attentiveness and inquiringness, our mind may ask for a new reading of the story of our life. An innocuous flicker from a hazy sequence in our memory lane can affect our current awareness, making us raise questions, throwing new light on our expectations; crafting an airy vision of the future. I see now that the path I choose through the maze makes me what I am. I am not only a thing, but also a way of being - one of many ways - and knowing the paths I have followed and the ones left to take will help me understand what I am becoming.