As I get older I get more afraid...

Been finding it hard to be kind,

since I've been lost out there, 

losing my mind.

Only one knew my name,

nothing left but the autumn rain.

Drag me around,

let me drown.

I'm a crack in the pavement...

They keep moving the line...

Nekoč, 

morda, 

nekje, 

nekdo.

I stare at the stars and wonder if they are the same ones I swore upon so long ago. And even though there are so many and they look so close together, I know they are light years apart. The glitter in the sky looks as if I could scoop it all up in my hands and let the stars swirl and touch one another, but they are so distant, so very far apart, that they cannot feel the warmth of each other, even though they are made of burning. This is the secret of the stars, I tell myself. In the end, we are alone. No matter how close you seem, no one else can touch you.

Don't want to draw the line...

It struck me, sharp and hard, that I had been given so many chances to save my soul that my entire life had been constructed around these chances. That was my nature, going from temptation to temptation, not to sin, but to be redeemed. Now I no longer live in the beginning, I have lost it forever. Now I find myself is in the middle, knowing neither the end nor the beginning, and yet knowing that I am in the middle, coming from the beginning and going towards the end. I see that life is determined by these two facets, of which I know only that I don't not know them at all.

A sun killer lullaby...

Hold me like the pebbles in your hand...

No one is strong enough to withstand seeing too much of the universe's plan in advance. It must be revealed daily. And we must be led to it and through it slowly. There isn't any timing that seems like the right timing to be shattered into dust. There isn't any plan life could present where I would willingly agree to be broken into unglueable pieces. I just wouldn't, and what a tragedy that would be. My controlling things would prevent the dust required to make the new me I so desperately desire. Adversity breeds advancement. And I am ready to ascend. 

All amber lights and warning bells...

I'm just staring at the ceiling,

can't describe this feeling.

I've got in my head,

I'm out of body in my bed.

And I'm just searching up my symptoms,

desperate to fix them.

I'll do anything,

because lately I've been spiraling,

I'm not feeling like myself and

nothing ever seems to help.

Call me mister know it all...

His life was at a teetering point, and he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. He was spiraling down a black pit, and there was nothing that was going to stop him. Once you're falling through the air, it's impossible to turn yourself around. The gravity of my actions was pulling him down, down, down. He saw black until sanity began to creep from the confines of his mind, leaving little more than a skeleton-like remnant of who he once was. Not inanimate but inactive, still alive but very much aloof, he started to passively float through the steps of life, numb.

As seemed to be the theme of my days recently, I was questioning my reality, questioning my dreams, questioning my mind, questioning what was real, what was imagined, and then questioning why. I was feeling displaced, like an outsider, as though I were simply doing a pale impersonation of myself. And not even a good impersonation either, with steps too long, breaths too quick, smile too wide, blinks too slow. Get a hold of yourself, idiot. So I searched the room, searched my world, interrogating the shadows, prodding the corners, acknowledging the spaces, seeking for something to ground myself. Anything at all.

Well I hope you do...

You will hear thunder and remember him, And think: he wanted storms. The rim of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson. And his heart will be on fire. Despite what it may seem, Time does indeed exist here, in small amounts. Feint forces of the universe they were, nearly indiscernible from the nothingness. A wind of change is blowing at him from behind and he needs to push forward with iron determination and a mental clarity hereto before unknown to him. Something in the microcosm that didn't even have a name went bling and against all the laws of probability, he is starting to open his eyes.

You're the only place I need...

I've seen it all too many times...

Riding on the wind...

When days are long, 

I drift away,

I play that song,

I used to play.

When skies are always summertime blue,

just like that, 

I'm back to loving life again.

Put me in the slammer...

These feelings aren't going away. They are linger. Hovering. They are with me always. These emotions are my roommates now, bunking up beside me at night. They are determined to ruin me, and yet I can never fully evict them from my brain. Most days now, they lie dormant in me. Sometimes it gets so quiet in my brain I think they've finally packed up and left. But then, suddenly, I start raging over the smallest of things. At first I'm perplexed, and then I remember: it's here again. I am still quite a bit mad.

Drop another hammer...

First: breakdown, impossible to sleep, impossible to stay awake, impossible to endure life, or, more exactly, the course of life. The clocks are not in unison; the inner one runs crazily on at a devilish or demoniac or in any case inhuman pace, the outer one limps along at its usual speed. What else can happen but that the two worlds split apart?

Everything turns in circles and spirals with the cosmic heart until infinity. Everything has a vibration that spirals inward or outward, and everything turns together in the same direction at the same time. This vibration keeps going: it becomes born and expands or closes and destructs, only to repeat the cycle again in the opposite current. Like a lotus, it opens or closes, dies and is born again. Such is also the story of the sun and moon, of him and his life. Nothing truly dies.

The moment or the night...

It was literally true: I was going through life asleep. I was both a body on the verge of sleep and a mind determined to stay awake. My body had no more feeling than a drowned corpse. My very existence, my life in the world, seemed like a hallucination. A strong wind would make me think that my body was about to be blown to the end of the earth, to some land I had never seen or heard of, where my mind and body would separate forever. Hold tight, I would tell myself, but there was nothing for me to hold on to.

Hold me it’s just another dream...

So I guess that it's true...

Rein me in...

In the cold,

to warm me up again

the weather's coming in.

Breathing out,

a force to breathe back in,

the panic's setting in.

Let me out,

so I can get back in,

I'm freaking out again.

When days are long, I drift away...

He wonders if there is something wrong with him; that he can get so much from so little. All his joy comes from not doing much of anything at all. And especially nothing that involves other people. How he came to be like this, is uncertain. He must be very selfish, he thought, for he sets nothing and no-one right; all he wants is to be left in peace to make what he can of this problem called life for himself and his family. Is such a life sustainable? The only constant so far has been that people have left, for he knows he isn't really someone that brightens your day. And he has never really had a problem with that at all. 

If I stop, it's just pain...

It is warm, he is alive, he is calm and sad, he hardly knows why. In this existence so even, so tranquil, and so gentle as he has here, he falls into melancholies of honey and roses. It seems to him that all those friends he loves forget him.

The unreality of the past weeks lifted like a fog, but its residue remained. All of the past is like that, but most especially the parts that are out of the ordinary. I step back further, until I feel cold tiles against my back. It is then I get the glimmer that I associate with memory. As my mind tries to settle on it, it flutters away, like ashes caught in a breeze, and I realize that in my life there is a then, a before, though before what I cannot say, and there is a now, and there is nothing between the two but a long, silent emptiness that has led me here, to me and him, in this home.