An Entire Quote. (Copied & Pasted)

No matter what anyone says, words are worse than sticks or stones because you can’t pull them out. You can’t forget, and there’s nothing in the world that can soften the heat of syllables and consonants and vowels wreaking havoc beneath the pillows of your lungs or the curves of your heart. Words leave the invisible scars, the ones that litter the backs of your eyelids, the soft lining of your throat, the nooks and crevices that run from your hips to the hollows of your knees. They form in places you didn’t even know you had inside you. There aren't stitches to heal these kinds of wounds, no drug to numb the pain. Perhaps time softens and smooths the edges, but they’re still there like fingerprints visible only underneath ultraviolet light. They still sneak up on you when you’re the most vulnerable, when you’re not thinking about anything at all. The most beautiful thing you could ever say to someone else is “I love you.” But even this can’t act as a sunscreen against the ever agonizing, “I don’t care.” And that’s the thing about words. They always land somewhere very deep, like land mines in the skin that go off the second after it’s too late. Another charm for your bracelet, a thousand tiny deaths.

As much as I love words, as much as I immerse myself in them, find myself fascinated by them, I hate them too. They make it too easy to never forget.

White & Cold.

Drunk; influenced by the alcohol I had consumed, I write this. A very first Christmas without you. Once a year it shall be, but the numbers shall increase. Someday we shall be together, if the fates allow. Let's have ourselves, a merry little Christmas, now. So many new experiences I had encounter, and without you to tell to. But I know you had seen me through it all. You had seen me through my joy, my happiness, my sadness, and my loneliness. I know I'm not the only in the world, I know you too, aren't the only who had left the world. But the world is as such, it leaves us, we shall leave it, but for a fact it must come. Nobody is exempted. New year on, we shan't face the same troubles, it will all be brand new, the old must depart, the new have to arrive. I'm sure Mama misses you so much, as I miss you. It's difficult Pa, it truly is. To be reminded of the joy we had shared together all these years, all the years you enjoyed Christmas, all the years you lived. I'm alone this year. Nobody is with me. I'm without Mama, or Calvin, or Chelsie. Or Uncle Bootit, or Uncle Barney, or Aunty Angela. Nobody is with me. I'm alone. I have only my friends with me, and that's difficult. Please tell God to come see me and say Hello and to bring me away to a better place. You see me through this all. It isn't a stage anymore Pa, it's true, I cannot pretend you exist anymore... Someday soon, we will all be together again, we will live together again, all of us. I'm certain, all of us.

Give A New Direction.

All in a day's worth. She is pathetic; by that I mean immature, and selfish. The greatness of blood ties, truly is thicker than any other liquid because it's brightness of red lived since we all began. Culture, also a racial issue, goes to show the living only live by a chord, plucked by initiates, nurtured by nature; to sum the foolishness of minds. The expansion of creativity when the ego is challenged, with pride at it's stake, it blooms exaggeratedly as fast as a bolt of lightning striking the earth. Products of selection when one defies social standards prevails class of higher standards. As like snails, the majority of specific high spenders, by Chinese origins, are a shame to humanity, though a comfort fact is they aren't the only. Purchase to show, show to splendor, splendor fails to project its magnificence because its abusers have tarnished a name so hard been built along a century. The quantity (a word harshly used to describe a mass without meaning), influences itself, neighbor to neighbor, shame to shame, all shared in a competition. They will not win this competition because having own nothing but the physical is a disgrace to life, thus their disqualification. The massive division, like amoebas, have caused a division in souls; a scrambled jigsaw, half of its puzzles flushed by time. I'm ashamed to be yellow. I bold by statement in protruding imaginary, that they aren't the only. I thought of a word thoroughly. It cannot be followed by any other words considering its meaning to be active ongoing with no ends so it shall be an end itself: Infinitely. 

In-Moment Questions.

The thoughts in my head goes on, and on, like a broken record so to speak. Just as I am about to pen them down, another thought comes to mind; have you ever wondered what another person's thoughts are, the style and the sound of its words? Everybody pronounces words differently and the structures of sentences/ thoughts differs from each individual. Language for instance, is just the basis, but beyond that is purely personality. Before I lose myself, allow me back to my initial start of a to-be rant. I wish I knew what the future holds, in precise detail. I am the sort, the current sort, who moves about in life mainly fueled by emotions. I search for the Happy & Joy in each second of living, and I action my plans out. I do this on a make believe stage, in pretense Death shall fall in a similar fashion of Gaston Leroux's chandelier to take me to the unknown. However, a change has come in me. My initial fuel of emotions is now polluted with rationales and with that comes worry. My make believe stage has been invaded by a director who wishes to remove the scene I had prepared for Death. This new thought; having done many unreasonable actions thinking life would end at any corner, what if life does not end but carry on, long-term? For that then, would leave much memories, experience and of course, regret. Perhaps hardship too. Is it worth the gamble? The serious tones of these statements are in conflict in my head, and it's torturous having to deal with them. Here comes more. It has been there all my life, resourcing it's energy from different unique and particular individuals, it is however now becoming a harmful bug to my grey matter. This role belongs to Influence. I try my best to embrace the influence of others based on my selection. The problem comes when all that I have absorbed starts fighting against each other to gain the larger hold of my being, which then makes me question, of my actual self being non-existent. It is a dangerous ground to play in but my thirst for perfection in the eyes of others remains at large. I shall end here.

Pod. An.

With no ethic. I find, after much influence, living is to love and without love, we aren't living. Without love, life is monotonous with only sparks that come from moments where smiles are put on our faces and, or big amounts of dissatisfaction that causes us be upset. I'm finding for love. Big time love that comes and never leaves. I seek for love in the physical form. I am in my alone time. My alone time where I begin to lose myself in all my thoughts and questions, even raising more questions on existence of being. To challenge the heart with all it is capable of with love. For we know, love brings despair. Who I wonder, in times coming, shall sweep me off my feet, my ground, my world, my routine, my knowing, into a joint world where my feet shall then be placed in such a way one foot in mine, and one in the other. When one feels the negative form of love betrayed, the pain is felt in the chest. Could all the ideas provided by the media and society cause us to feel it in the chest, close to the heart? I doubt so. I feel that the origin of pain felt in that specific area comes from the pain which is actually felt there! The discomfort, the diaphragm wrenching feeling, the nausea, the suction. Such pain is one so great and mysterious it cannot be felt and inflicted on the physical. Many failures in love had caused people hurting their bodies in order to feel a greater pain than what's felt inside, so what's felt inside could be felt less. But they soon come to learn that what's inside absorbs outside pain, causing unimaginable amounts of hurt. Yet, living with the pain is living. For living is loving. No love, no life.

Earache.

Earache. As the silence gains volume in being absolute. I hear nothing but the noise I make, and when I intentionally stop all action, I hear a buzz. This buzz is a no noise buzz. It is so loud that upon hearing it, my own voice seems inferior towards it.

Pause N` Play.

It has been repeatedly said many a times but here I find myself quoting the two captivating words of its splendor; keep calm. Hardly giving any thought to my words and actions, I find myself suffocating in regret to most circumstances these days. Keep calm. When there's much emotional and physical energy that needs to be vanquished out of the body, and soul, it hardly passes through the thinking canal in the folded depths of the mind. Keep calm. Here at once, following an idea, I pursue my explanation through a monologue debate. You have got to keep it cool at all times to allow mental processes in taking place before actions are acted out, because lightly the thinking is, heavier the burden of responsibility for risk. It isn't easy so given my actions are based on my fundamental personality trait which happens at no surprise be emotional, and my youthful charm and flamboyancy being the blame to the uproar of excitement beneath my skin. Therefore, it boils down that what needs changing is self rather than self thought. Forcing thoughts through thoughts shall not always succeed fore the complications of the inability to control fully the mind is immense. Thus, self change should take place in the beginning to dispose of thoughts forehand. Truly truly, let's discover.

It Doesn't Belong Here.

"i'll try this without swearing. i feel apathetic. i'm looking for joy but the only joy i can ever get is in my room being alone and feeling it and despising them and just to keep to myself. i don't wanna allow myself ot become like them ut  cannot help it. i feel restraint by them. the perfect jo comes from the perfect beauty. everything is beauty. beauty helps to alleiate the soul of it's worries and trouble. the sight is made up of living. relating life with sight because it contributes to expression. the soul's window are the eyes for a reason it is said. i'm hungry for beauty. i need to rediscover my self. i need to plan an escape. i fear death. i'm not as courageous as i' am about it awhile bac. why do i know this much i know now. i wanna be ignorant as they are and just livelife not knowing ithe hopelessness i'm feeling now. people are the ssame and changes comes likely not from it. he is smart but i should beckon him my apologies. i wanna cry and feel love again, that's all i need. to show to peoplle the change i am and th echange i can bring. no feed for the pretense of joy and like. just one, on one, a life that was originally built for two, or more that comes with refurbishing the world of grace and peace. what has come from it all now. the broken twisted idea of a mistake which can never be undone. we're cndemned."

-As Misery Creeps.

People.

That more than speaks the rest of my following usual let outs of all that I can be feeling, which is isn't always a bad thing but I would press on further that a learning experience can ever be obtained at the final period. So the actual point here is that there is always one who disappoints you, always one who allows a tiny bit (sometimes more than just a tiny bit) of joy, one who gives hope, one who motivates, or the opposite of the verbs given, and more. A joy filled atmosphere room with known people opposes the idea of it's lurking reality, a room of large insecurities, hatred, obsession, jealousy, and lust. To be true to one's self it so walk out, subtly yet in a performing manner, and quickly so as to avoid the unnecessary time of explaining the enactment so used to being done. I like beauty and I get distracted by it awfully easily proven I really had lost my point to this of the distractions overtaking my focus. I over promised the lesson before period then so ending this with an exclamation I shall!

The Thought That Came.

It's been awhile so I feel it's time again I leave a mark in this endless space. My mind is empty. There are not many things I can do now or words to try to picture and to construct something that seems unlikely from the ordinary. Trying, tried, and the thought comes again to try but pointless it is. Looking back, looking forth, you see all that can be seen. This once more sounds like a nag of absent purpose but there is a purpose in life. That has already been discovered through a wide selection of read books. I share to those whom ask. Here hear now, me, hear, a rant shall now be told. I thought he perfect by looks and by charm, but knowing always creates a different appeal to an individual. I want, no doubt, as many who had tasted would want, so I pursued in hope. But hopes shatter when expectations aren't met. Here we go, the same tale told countless time with recognition for once. That the tales are told to hope the future isn't history. But, alas, there's hope. So disallow that thought, instead allow experience, allow all-felt-like-thoughts be manifested, allow love. Then it will come, without doubt I say, a pretense of confidence. I know. I will not go that path. I will push this through.

She, The Moon.

It has been long since I've last shared my thoughts and or (complaints). Learning to let go isn't easy but difficulty has been a part of the human race for a long time running. Who are we to judge the miraculous wonders of the happenings around, or some recognizes it as the hands of destiny. I let go but at this early age, my expectations are extreme. Considering my geographic status right now, they seem to be almost impossible unless I dream of my neighbors. I've found one. He, as them all, hasn't the slightest clue of my actual temperament. She and her and some friends of mine do know me but it ends there. Knowing isn't important anymore but loving is. To let go is to love as to receiving, one has to love too. It isn't as complicated as it sounds, or as the predicament of creating a dream, but the simplicity of this idea is the beginning of all that is appallingly confusing. I, and my mother, and perhaps the millions out there know of the worst in life. It comes from believing against the idea of Genesis, the creation. So it brings me back to the second point, I've found and my prayer begins. He knows it too, before it leaves my mind. He too knows what him and I are capable of and in need of doing before all energy left constraint beneath our skins explode in all it's negativity; opposite of the beginning. Allow me, my prayer starts, an accompany, a companion, for all love to be released leaving space to receive. Simply allow me, dearest Creator.

This Is Yours.

Let me be absolutely casual this time. I had to. The pain kept coming in constantly that ending what pretended it's existence was crucial on my half. An excellent friend simply does not mean an excellent partner. It's attitude and it's simply not within you. There isn't any point if I kept giving all I have in exchange for all that shit you put on my face. It is simply unacceptable. I'm glad that I had ended it. You're selfish, you're full of yourself, which is why you kept taking and you have ego that doesn't belong to a fistful size of self, you. I never was dramatic, I never was overemotional, as to how you are spreading for the world to hear these false rumors of me. You're the one lashing out upon social networking site of every little thing that is happening in your life. You're pathetic in my eyes. Don't pretend to hurt me further by your actions because greatly, love has overcome all hurt in me. Biggest thing I may have done for you throughout our entire relationship is to forgive you that final end.

Knowing Little.

SO the whys are asked. Looking around, only the furniture and cold air answers me. Their language I speak not so an answer I'm still seeking width. A parallel momentum of emotions destined for corruption of one's self. All without answers because depression enjoys what's gradually to completion. I'm curious knowing the ongoing of the lives of others. To judge or to relate, or both. To convince on the other hand, is difficult. Yet her Queen knows their deeds and the art of manipulation to her desires. What is it of the many of us desiring the greater amount attention. It's harmful, with tears I say this. That rhythmic heart beat, not disturbed, calm as it walks gently in it's sorrowful world. I need a companion, nothing more, who would walk me through this life, sharing the same ideology of this insane ground. A secret understanding through secret glaces; eye to eye. It's sad. I cry. Maybe, nothing more, maybe, something less. They say the Africans killed an elephant, but ego kills joy, or rather it's built centered upon it. It isn't much I'm asking for, I repeat myself like a sound-sane broken record. It's just the minimal of the maximum I can receive which is, a little of everything that is given times the amount that has been said would be deducted from the start. In total, completion of knowing little, yet gaining much. This is depression of it's average taken on the mental toll. Joy, fill me up.

Cunt.

Take all this shit here I have, swallow, then go dig a grave for me.

Selah.

My words, they're stunned, as I'm sad. My flow, they're prohibited, as I'm upset. Everything slows down in time, as I'm lost for and of speech. Pointy it means a boy of no wealth disposing dreams to a hurtful path down that cobble toed lanes. The night darken it's skies owning it's moment till dawn spurs. Quiet it may be, soundlessly unearthing everything that has been buried. Eating away from within, like an expensive treasure. To determine would mean to avail it's truth that there is absolutely no splendor, no romance, a non laughing matter whatsoever. I wish there are ways of saying things which refuses it's proposal. To allow that moment of a short spanned glory to be felt. Maybe lower down a thread and pick happiness for instance. I wish it could be allowed. A man cannot die twice as how a heart cannot be twice broken. Once is enough to leave it's remnants shattered and pain felt forevermore, bearing it's scar a lonely witness. But life cannot be defined. It's tales are spun with many colored threads it complicates being with texture and preferences. Many await that final day, of when all ends, and a chance of a new beginning.

Wildest Rêve.

About a year ago, sitting in an office, I used Google Maps to see the Eiffel. About a year later, standing in front of it, I witness the Eiffel. I feel life being so beautiful at this current moment.

Well Well.

No honestly. Wow. Well well, I'm overthrown a game I so know back forth my hand to win it. How can I lose this? I guess it takes mad skills for this to work and mad skills exist all right. I'm smiling and I know it'd be a good night. There's nothing left. Congratulations is all I must say. I have finally gone through the grinder and have survived being here on the other side. What do I want now? To pretend I can play or just stage my defeat or a better idea, one I am ever so fond of, to bring back that tsunami of two oh my gosh four. Somebody mentioned road trip and a road trip I must take to see if I've still got it within me. That capability to draw and doodle shapes of circles and triangle. I need strength and my feet flat on this ground. I have gone what the Alaskans would say, "We're so used to it, I'm afraid to think it would change." I think this is the end of all bedtime stories and fairy tales. Congratulations once more my friend for the roller coaster ride I designed but cannot stop, and to which you halted. For the umpteen times that cyclone of romance caught me off guard and threw me seven heaven up above the universe of lust and reasons you know of but lest you understand. For the bone that has left you and all of you. I laugh.

Start, It Wouldn't.

I don't know how I shall even begin describing how I feel. It's a mixture of pain and so much of pain, and the greatest pressure points of pain felt right here in my heart. I do not understand what I want. I can't live with you, yet I can't live without you. Living without you feels worst than living with you. God why can't I just stop having these feelings for you and just move on already. It is driving me insane thinking of the million and one things that don't stop hurting my insides. Please, I beg you God one million times to release me from this wretched state. Be my savior and heal me of this heartache. I will admit defeat and come to recognize that perfection is not within me but within the relationship of myself and everything else. Grant me God, one more, just one more chance in this affair and I'd forever live with it. I can not go on for I feel so weak at the giggle of death. I feel tired. Please.

Something Special.

Girl: I'm having my operation now. I love you.


Girl lays on the operation bed.
Boy stands there with watery eyes without saying I love you too.
Girl finishes heart transplant.


Girl: Where is he?
Nurse: They didn't tell you who's heart they gave you, did they?


Nurse hands the girl a note from Boy.


Note says "I told you it was yours."

Do Add Dots.

Dear me. A heck I've been through. I'm on the verge of feeling almost everything. I'm overwhelmed! Everything does happen for a reason. But reasons be reasons lest them be explanations to unruly settlement. I can never allow the what ifs and don'ts of doings and wrongs of the immoral. It is simply unacceptable for me to pretend everything is to be agreed but my heart screams the insensitivity of the idea. I cannot blame the crabs for their soft inner parts neither can they be judged being hard out. It's just the way they are and so is the way I am. A choice is given and two can always be half of each. A choice is made to determine the path one should take. A choice can be given to be made, or can be taken in consideration of it's outcome. A choice is unfair. Be it me or be it you, my choice you, your choice me. Happiness then floods the occasion like doves stringing peace with their flight trails. But my, who would have thought another piece of information could be delivered as swiftly as the first was delivered and the latter brought forth. Amazing how the idea of exploration tickles my insides. Nay, tickles me with fury and despair. Just when birds fly, the wolves claw their way through. I am speechless but in an awe mode to see what comes next. Think acronym and figure my heart longs for.

Let's Rush This.

Building it slow leaves the excitement lingering at the border of all the energy. What good does that do? People need to feel all they can feel at any given moment of time before the moment ends. For all things will have no say in when they end, but they have a knowing that they'd end. Everything ends. Nothing last forever. So the race is on, the rush is felt. Things have to be completed quickly yet profoundly so that no moment goes in waste to the idea of losing time. They say time is gold, but gold is the idea and the pursue of many. The conversion has been made. People have less appreciation for time as gold is focused more but the same applies when the terms are switched. It starts to show it's true colors this Life. True, through it all is an amazing manifestation of an experience that is worth 'living' for. But if you get tired halfway, then you don't seem to have the push, the motivation or the wanting, God forbid, the willing to carry on. What point is there then... The older generation would laugh and mock this thought but they deserve to do so. They've had the harder times, and for that, kudos. Let's rush this shit then.

Never True.

You said;

-you'd accompany me, but you were no where when I needed you.
-you'd share my pain, but here I'm in this dark room bearing them alone.
-you'd care for me when I'm sick, but here I am and you aren't here.
-you'd love me, but, but your love is much of words alone.

Many things have you said but none come to pass. You never chase. I'm not worth it I understand. Far too long have your needs been placed first before the rest of humanity. That's the primary attitude I'm keen of staying away from, a selfish heart. You aren't here. I need you. I need you badly but you aren't here. You're just not here. Writing this over again would help sink the fact in eventually, which is what I'm hoping to happen. I need you here with me holding me as I cry these tears I long to shed. Be here for me. But you aren't here.

A Bliss.

I'm happy but scared. A joy like water, held back by oily fear in this jar. I can't seem to have it all even though it feels like everything is mine already. I can't receive that last few dew dropping percentages before I receive a full hundred completion in being totally happy. So a question comes to mind on the existence of perfect happiness. Control is my goal. To see the outcome as to expectations, as expectations is merely the guide to the perfection of the plan. Hows and many whys had been asked repeatedly but to no availing answers. Where is this missing jigsaw piece? What is the cause of this emptiness. Could it be for a missing soul? The angel and her missing love loops in the calm air. I feel my tears have all dried up in the attempt of bringing the not-so-alive back. I still dare not use the more descriptive word. I will not move on. I simply will not because that life was all I had in hopes of the better future. I feel some anger quivering beneath my skin now. A break that would make it okay; to break so that a new better could be fixed. Simply because, everything ceases to live this existence. It's a reality made in fantasy which was never real in the first place. An empty wardrobe, a hope, a comb, a hungry fragrance, a tie, a coffin, a hole in the ground, in the universe, a fatherly shaped hole in the universe, a hole with a shape so rare and unique a replacement cannot be found, a longing. God, why?

An Invisible Dagger.

It hurts. So bad. Allow me death. Pa, take me.

Bastards; A Loaded Gun Part 2.

One fucking fine day, I'ma drill a bullet down your big pipe gap hole you motherfucking son of a bitch. The second of that some fucking day, you'd learn to leave what's not yours and go fuck with old age and die a miserable fat ass death. I hate the word hate right now because it doesn't accurately describe my level of anger. DIE YOU BASTARDS. ALL OF YOU. FUCK AND GO DIE.

Breathes. Pauses.

That's how uncivilized I can be. But nay (Rudolph), I shan't be such. Anger comes from the root of pain and fear. When you fear that the dreams you thought to be true had in reality be false, you hurt, and the pain felt turmoils these gargantuan amount of anger which can be so damaging to the soul/s. I'm hurt alright. I'm sad, I feel so sad. A promise had been made to me but it wasn't delivered. The justification of the cause hadn't been a satisfying one, in fact, it's an infuriating one. So infuriating I can lapse into another epilepsy of sailor white tongues. I'm sad okay, I say one more time. I cried, I screamed, I vandalized. All to what point, emptiness and scarce anything...

"Glow" & Honesty.

Lower down expectations and down the disappointments would be lowered too says a wonderful glow of light in a successful attempt of home-made recipe (not recorded). One gives more, says the one giving the most because only the more-over-giver would know who gives in excess. Hence the receiver tends to take in granted on the accord of his receives. At least an attempt was made but now, numbers before, couldn't match up to what was asked to lower down by and through the enlightenment. Twists and turns has to be made to a different named letter to avoid all the possible unwelcome emotions. Speak forth, and do forth in choice of words and actions. Make them parallel and not one mounting the other in a retarded confusion of what you said to be, an understatement! Please. My knees are not of wood presenting blood, have them be cut. Feel the presence of this performance and understand that it is impossible to find a hiding place after this mess. Why can't the circular karmic expression apply in these equations... Why can't treated be how treatment feels back given? A choice has been taken away, I believe. I appreciate your light, Glow.

Victimized, BC.

Sad stories have their own way of projecting themselves dramatically after a short simmer of collected moments. It's the short-cake of how a man orgasms, not a lady. Because I have read before that a woman's orgasm may last for a whole 2 minutes but that isn't the point honestly. A man would just have his most loved tingle sensation before the moment of the waited volcanic outbreak; eruption. Again, isn't a point meant to be associated with purpose to this post. Sad stories. Many people have tried to stop seeing sad stories to be sad. Some succeed for just few stories short but the rest, nay (Rudolph). What should one do when the total amount of these unwelcome moments begin to exceed the point of handling capacity? Jumping off high floors don't seem to help in a moral sense so we won't start discussing water pollution of drowning theories. Maybe a drink or two but that doesn't help the long run, just the short. The argument here would be, many shorts make a long as how a little bit would become a hill eventually. Then again, that's not the point. I have once been victimized by those who dare not want to achieve a certain sense of corporate responsibility. They disagreed though have agreed in prior of the humiliation. To these people, do note that a crab never forgets though forgiveness might have been stamped out a post long before. Shame on you liars of sorts! This ramble may proceed further than it usually would,just a precaution forehand. You bitched me but I know you do so only because you have a very low sense of acceptance and attention. You put one down so you may for yourself, climb a certain ladder of recognition. Sorry to burst your bubble Ms. I-Queen-Bitch, but people listen to your stories just because they weren't given a choice to stuff the male's organ for reproduction into your gap hole, or for short, shut you up. I hate you for now in love, but I hope karma takes a bite at the shoes you leave by your kitchen.

Eighty Seventh for Equality.

The responsibility I feel for the death of an individual is overwhelming enough as it is. When fingers of accusations curse the man who walks with his head hung low in fear of shame and guilt. They haunt him. If he fears the same for another, then they shall never forgive him anymore. My fingers are crossed, my tongue races across the words I know not hoping an unspoken prayer would be said miraculously... Dreams dreamed, wishes wasted and hopes fail. 'Nobody left in this world to hold me tight.' It's a sad life this life is. Everyone has it in them. Many would just love to lay down and await somebody to lay with them, lay with them by the train tracks either to save them or be with them through the hell which is bound to arrive. He feared happiness and through her curiosity, he explained that with happiness, there's always the risk of sadness. It's a guarantee that the risk would turn into a positive expenditure of one's joy. Think it through, please think it thoroughly before you act. The world is harsh but love has it's way into your heart. You told me once that it's better living with the love and excitement albeit the pain, so live with it. Don't back yourself on your own words. I will miss you as I already am, and I'm not the only one honestly. Share me your life, I will share you my joy. Think it through. 

A Yellow Factual Boat.

So this boat we speak of is the one we're sitting on not knowing where it goes or when we can get off. We're just stuck, not just me, not just you but more people than we can imagine. It's a difficult world out there, but nothing can be more difficult when compared to what goes on in the heart. Because the pain of the physical can be easily healed with any of the medications and treatments which exists in this sorrowful world, but for the pain inflicted upon the heart, I feel a pain as such can be considered to be a very hurtful (sort-of) pain. It doesn't go away even if you tried, it goes away only with fulfillment. But thinking back, and saying the same sort, the same stories, the same life, the same fucking pattern never does leave the life of any individual. It's a curse, it's a pathetic liking for somebody who doesn't feel the same; it's the wanting of something that can never be gotten, it's a heartful desire filled with expectations and a partful/half-filled sacrificial routine where one gives more than the other... It can and it won't stop. I can but I'd stop. There's no meaning to any of it. It's fake. It's an illusion blinding them who are caught unaware. We never did want to get on this boat. We just walked right straight on it without a single realization.

A Drunk Written Post, Rarely.

Rarely this would happen that I write a post when I'm completely drunk. So this shall be a post with less complications and more love, so to speak. I like you honestly but truth be told you would be hard as hell. It's difficult to trust you. If you could do as such as what you did to him, you could definitely do it to me as well. That's life, you get what you give. I really miss you now that you are away. My hearts speeds at every mention of your beautifully pronounced name. Notice me as I notice you because I'd like to include you in my life. I sing a million songs of love for you so accept me for the man I am and I will give you everything that you deserve and more in this life. You could teach me the better being of humanity and educate me on all that you know. I'm in so much of emotions for you. Understand that!

A Picture of Walls.

In a room, the corner of fours will tell you a story of what they've had experienced and seen in their times of being. Some may be good and others may be bad, but the truth is, there's a liking which exists which is not known by others. What will the walls say if they had seen the entire affair of this dramatic scandal. Skip. It isn't a choice anymore as choices would permit one to make decisions, but this is force as no decisions can be made for it. I may be in Africa where the time difference is of six late, but my heart roars like the lions in the wild when the thought you strikes. It isn't me anymore, it's what's in me that counts. Smiles may be superficial and nothing can be more of the truth than the truth itself. Hands down, I miss you.

Not To Happen.

Over and over again, we agreed it will not happen. Me, him in the mirror and us up there. Yet, it did. Again, once more. Slowly, she creeps, her nets readily. How do I avoid this... Is it too late? It isn't. I cannot.

A Rare Update.
Ouch. Sniffs. I miss you.

The Scene, Honestly.

So we speak of romance for now. I am torn in two. Half hoping you would find me again on this social network and you'd take my hand and heart to where you'd keep them safe. Forever, by far, shall you be mine since September's end. There's another half where a division of many speaks tales of their very own. First, I'm hoping you'd notice me where communication can be held, and actually practicing a conversation with me. I stare at the status of your appearance on the Internet, green it reflects, signalling the best of hopes. Speak to me, please. Two, dare you play me around with an orientation so confused I'm tortured myself from unidentified gestures. Leave me, I have enough as you can see. You alone see pain in my eyes accurately enough to throw a question leading me embarrassed to answer. I can't with you and you know so well why. Three, my heart no longer plays the truth of trust. I've long abandon all hopes on the race of doubt. Yet I speak with such contempt to it, yet my heart fails to pretend it doesn't long for, or crave what it needs. It needs everything that can be summarized in the above.

Toying With Eyes Wide Open.

Pretty little bitch strutting with utmost confidence that the world is on the side which has been agreed upon to be favored. It isn't fair but what does fairness and justice or even the mention of equality has got to do with any of this. It's downright discrimination of taste, gender and coloration. The Eiffel tower may have it's pride so does the Pisa, with it's lean. Rome had been beautiful despite the random cursed money sucking bastards whom I release curses aplenty. The buildings, street, people and even the weather has a strange Italian-likeness towards the whole effect of the scene. One can perhaps see love in the air by the Trevi fountain. Gorgeous it was. There is a but, and the but isn't of the greatest. How silly can the mind be toyed around with forces of the unseen, like a web preys it's victims for the spider. It's temptation. It's lust. It's pride, it's everything of the seven, even  sloth. O when can I go to finally rid the pain of enlightenment? It's when you know that knowing takes the joy from you. That's why fools come with the saying ignorance of highest bliss. My stars remain untapped. The crab shakes and flakes, side-stepping away life, or the waters of emotions, all in attempt to be happy. Happiness comes to them unworthy, positivity as plastics. Feel the condemnation of life and lift noses in proud feelings that's when happiness warmly greets. Screw the yard behind and fuck the world in front that's when happiness embraces self. Nothing more have I to say but to hell with everything that causes misery. I am myself being me and how much I wish to fucking change that, it remains, once more; untapped. So shall I have to live with me, getting used to the idea of him in the mirror and the her of his heart. Side-stepped, looking side, being a pessimistic skeptic. Yet, being me, knowing her, knowing him, tears shall fall at the end of each day. Tears hold the world of sorrow in each drop; happiness mirroring sorrow's effort of hurt. I let my sorrowful world fall every night. My sorrowful happy-sometimes world to fall in the abyss of nothingness to let peace take control. Rabbit hole, and a missing father. My wide eyes, open with acceptance of being toyed by the world's end. 

A View of the Fog.

I escaped and I survived. But what exactly did I escape from and what were the obstructions I overcame to have declared my survival. Hope is like the fog. It's there blinding the truth of the what-is-to-come. Where's the truth and basis of happiness? The excitement and thrill of living is only present in each new sectors of discovery. Where there's learning, there's growth. Growth brings life, contrasting the stagnant stump. However, there's a turning point to all things where good things go from almost perfect to nothing close of perfection. Athena's here so next time.

Fingers, Seeds and Mountains.

How they interrelate with each other. The fingers help with the making of the hand and idea. However, the idea took a blowing turn which left the fingers back into their socket balls. Bullshit stampeded the mind of the creator (lower case C). What may seem fair to one would mean something to the other. A post, an experience once shared, an anger once laughed, is at a risk of being repeated. So, with the seed in place, who but the crowd can water and shine it with light to recollect painful memories of the past. Trust and honor of the name of sincerity cannot be applied here as ignorance has been forbade to be an excuse. As for mountains, the earth has many. But when they start shifting and moving to create a better more habitual landscape that it gets it's responsive praises. A lightning can be summoned to smash the colossus of the mass state of corruption. Zap and burn the motherfucker down to avoid any more complications. Allowing purity and innocence of the young to subtly trod with gentleness. Allow this thrice. Allow this growth. Allow this exist.

Undoubtedly.

That's a nice word. But what comes after is a one that has a meaning so deep that signifies a truth in all of the nature of it's rulers. Beneath the hard fluff of an exterior, it was a shame to have revealed my sensitive side just a bit too early. No help would have come across successfully. So with this, beauty shall be to where she is placed. When will that dawn of doubt dilute to the atmosphere leaving traces of it's first off existence, and shall bring upon another cause. For a butterfly flutters it's majestic colors across the garden, so shall the leaves whisper when cast upon it's shadow. They whisper with enthusiasm and hope (one lost word had it not been heard for some time), and courage. Leaves they are, but could they bloom to wondrous feed of flowers should they decide to. The sun comes to a rise beyond that door, where the first-comers decided to be at. Who can pretend anymore of the what ifs, and what shan't. Oh, the cold tickles the desired, the scarf warmth on the assumed. Fingers of the eyes caresses the earth's great art, running through the smooth of the dead. Pearls, black ones, shone and shall shine the sun's reflection. A shape so joyous, and a full entertainment of the spectacularly high up. The courage to dream begins in the yearns of passion. A flicker of blue, beneath the flame. One mustn't assume the dangers of beauty. They fool upon the hardest of hearts, turning soft which could be a possible mold of some sorts. Nevertheless, breaths be drawn at shallow veins of fire; undoubtedly.

So The Flight Begins.

The sixth day being here at a new destination and I'm enjoying every bit of it. It will be soon before training would begin and the hardship of memory would come take it's place. By the seventh week, I will be on my first flight to some part of the world and shall begin the ticking of countries visited across the globe. Quite soon would there be a time when I will have favorite destinations and selected memories to be considered wondrous. The discovery around Hong Kong has been great so far. This beautiful, systematic and organized clean country really does soothes the heart of one who enjoys perfection in sight. There may be some flaws but such would be minor in terms of comparison with the country of my origin. What do I expect for time to come? I can't much as I always have a bad habit to push things quickly either towards up or down the road. I have to learn the art of patience and by trying to cope with the hard change of adapting persistence. A single 'see' would be very much appreciated as a favorite location for this very instant. Head on a fluffy pillow wrapped like a burrito with a comforter. Too tempting thus the bye.

Unguided Path.

I am crying for help with the same enthusiasm of how one would when thrown off a cliff. This is too difficult to bear. I need to escape this hell. I can go neither left nor right and I despise the forward road. The three of us were going through photos dated nearly a decade ago and that immediate marble choked my throat. Everything seems so perfect and the beauty was glamor in splendor undefined. So what if we had to eat food worth less than two dollars each day. So what if the clothes on our back were to be used till they're torn. The fact is, we were happy. We were happy not knowing a pampered life. Looking back now, I can cry forever more because such a perfect moment will have no pity to be relived. How low must I humbly bow to God to request another chance to be happy with my family? I am stuck in the past as they would say. My heart distracted and left behind the timeline of life. Mercy me. Foolishly, I believed that depression shall not persuade it's survivors. It's coming back to me again, strolling with light feet satisfied to know I am helpless. Death seems like an offer now which delights my Life. Nothing else worth not to be lived for. To whom should I turn to? My drug now shall be Cathay. A temporary effect of excitement before square one is taken place again.

A Sad Text.

Sometimes, decisions are made and words said to intensify moments which are set according to a former plan. I hurt myself in order to hurt others less, or none at all, if possibility avails. My dreams are of mine and a lesson taught for me, personally to believe that I shan't include others in this circle. Actions taken may bring about massive hatred and hurtful emotions but that's the best that can be conjured from this thoughtful cap. Shall not and will not be the last to speak of this. Infinity has a border, making a finite end to these nasty curvaceous shapes. All these dots will be linked and linked shall they be in the eye, turned. Now, be it, be it, be it, prayed for. Life led.

Doesn't That Reek Disability.

Franchise of an anonymous emotion expanding like houses of fast selling hot cakes. It all begins with the tongue. Perhaps this should be driven through a different course to avoid misinterpretation. Just as how one can imagine the form of a cinnamon roll, one can too get a sniff of it. Hands, hands, feet, feet. It moves as such that it comes to many different forms. Denial and back forms of unsent spaces shall bloom into a new choreography. Let moments be captured in a blast as one would say to lightnings and blondes. Ta.

So Says Hunter S. Thompson.

We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and — in spite of True Romance magazines — we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company, we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely — at least, not all the time — but essentially, and finally, alone. This is what makes your self-respect so important, and I don’t see how you can respect yourself if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.

A Thank You Bear.

Lies and betrayals presented forcefully,

A thank you bear I shall give in return,

It shall be considered as,
Cuddling thorns with fire.

Her name; Karma.

She will burn,

She will rip,

She will hurt.

Twice the pain forced upon.

For none I did but watch,

For all I watch in smiles.

Green & Tall.

Unfortunately, I am not the type of person who likes taking down numbers for the fun of it like others do unless I truly wish to get to know that person well. Even if I do truly wish to get to know a specific person well, there's always that debate in my mind on whether I am brave enough to ask for a way of contact.

Unfortunately, nobody settles for the average. That's what I realized after going to different clubs for many wasted nights. It isn't just at clubs, it applies everywhere. A person has to be either on the extreme end of being close to the center of attention or all the way to the exit of a room to be deemed likeable. Perhaps the word is not likeable, but helps seeds curiosity for others to grow in wonder (a.k.a. being mysterious).

Unfortunately, yin - yang is true. With such a great white of the yin being the goodness of love, there's always the dark side of yang clinging close by hovering with all it's vices. For each good thing that can be said about love, there will be the reverse to it as well. With much care and protection, comes jealousy and doubt. With much sacrificial actions, comes more expectation and disappointment. Need I go on?

Unfortunately, there are many evil people in this world. Funny I mentioned many, whereas it should really be 'all'. I just need the minimum of ten bullets to make the world (at least my world), a slightly better place. Bang to bitches and bastards who know not the definition of secrets. Bang to fuck-holes who force their gravity on others. I'll bang each one of you motherfuckers down to the point of hell for you don't deserve life. Who am I to judge but you should have had seconds thoughts to the consequence of your actions.

Drum Troopers

They smack rhythmic beats worthy of moving asses. However, nothing appears as it could be in front of eyes showing beauty, expressing reality. Twice fell, thrice lifted. It's a coaster, rolling carts through swoops and swirls, dips and ducks. Knowing it all, thinking it true, yet truth be thought, nothing is known. Do not imagine and picture pictures of colorful intimacy when imagination ceases to exist in realities of utter darkness. Black cunning clouds of doom fucks the inner cores of left-over humanity. A stage, staging a stage. Prove desires of wanting being only. A dangerous word it can be; only. Jesus said we should put more priority to the things that comes out rather than the things which goes in the mouth. For whatever goes in, comes out - what comes out, stays out till it returns back in. Butterfly effect rings a bell? Do not swing the tongue like a loose dagger for injuries would then be inevitable. Think it through, feel it thoroughly, before words be let slipped and a heart gets broken. Aside to the long-pressed lefty written rant, see through double finely cut delicacies. A take two in a one take shot. Pause on hold for a chin down thought. When the loner plays her part, she would feel the tortures of forceful reminiscence. It's sad but nature is beyond our control, and so is death. Play what's paused, two for one for sharing be caring. Skip that, moments to be cherished.

Front Followed Fiend.

They speak and they've said anything would allow everything in existence. They lied. All is turning around and all is coming down. Nobody can catch us. We will all fall. We will die. So much said on motherfucking lies. Bastards shall burn to the ground in death. Let oil rip their eyes out in tears and wails of screaming children be their mourn. Fuck them all. Them who judge without seeing the unseen. Condemned. Fuck them all. Them who comfort with crossed fingers. Them who know nothing pretending something. Fuck them all. Them who allow talks be larger and more prominent than walks. Especially them who over promise and under deliver, or don't deliver at all. Fuck them all. Fuck them who accepts but never gives. Fuck them all. No one is worth it. All will fall and perish in this rage. All will die and burn and bleed and get fucked in the minds. Nobody will be exempted. Humanity in it's most whole. When bodies are linked by hands, when peace is so called upon 'us' all. I say fuck them all. The imperfectness of humanity. We fell, we fall, we will fall. Fuck us all. I give up. Time ticks in accordance to the will of smiles. When smiles and jokes be set aside, when the tones be turned down, when everything is left behind; the final disappearing act shall be performed. Let everything be organized that there be no marks left behind. The mark of the heart can be only taken by time. First smile left me when I saw that flicker go missing. That flicker which represents the hope have upon me. Second smile left me when new flickers appear. Everything is heading down that drain, be in the goodness or the cruelty of life. Be it.

All Is Cold.

Long awaited.

Eyes. Feet. Lips. Teeth. Brows. Hair. Nose. Fingers. Ears. Neck. Chest. All is cold. None left. Where's the heat? Where's the love? Where's the life? All is cold. None left for no one. The box hangs low down the unearthed ground. It feels very much strange knowing the sun shines upon the lost. Providing a ray acting as a guided path towards the Ultimate. Be it exist. Now that it is done, it cannot be undone. We can miss, we can cry, we can die. Nothing can be done to undo the happened.

Long awaited.

Anger and rage swapping hurt and grief. Like players of musical chairs. They take turns. A whirlpool of red, black, and grey. Swirl, swirl, swirl. Colors and lies unfurl. Out the mouth be it slurred. Like cigarette stained fucking lies. Come crashing/pulling down the path of destruction. Knocking lives aside by side. It feels as if the end is near. All giving way; set loose upon the fallen ground. Sucking all that is beneath the sun enforcing up forth negativity. Fall, further down the ground, deep down. Give up, she calls.

When Words Fail.

I am filled with all sorts of feelings right now. The birds in the sky swoop down low midday to take worms off the earth. They chew and bite and spit on these worms for their pleasure's sake. I honestly do not know who I am anymore. I do not know what I want or where I would want to go in the future. Life is pretty much a big blur right now. Maybe two squirrels isn't enough for a single nut to share. Perhaps 3. Words are failing me. As I stood behind the green curtains waiting for them to be done with their work, I got anxious imagining what I would find. But it wasn't bad, it was horrifying. He gasped for air like a fish forced out from the water. He had blood on his arms and two clamps on two legs. A mask misfitted on his face, providing the assistance of breaths. I am speechless. I felt tears welling up my eyes, and tear marbles up my throat. I hate such environment. I cannot stand being in the midst of everyones' sorrow. Wrongly said. I can stand being in the midst of everyones' sorrow but not while I have my own. Because it gets overwhelming as I feed on the negative energy of the surrounding. It really gets me depressed quickly with unwelcome thoughts and ideas. Physically, I'm out of breath. Mentally, I'm stable. Emotionally, it's chaotic. I admit that alcohol does provide me with amazing senses of relief and that I long for it time after time. It's time to give it a rest and just be with myself again; the best person to be with in the world.

Square Roses.

Circles, triangles, and ovals, yet none beats the square rose. I'm officially down under a tool box so deep I can cry the happiness out with a touch of misery. Death be hidden; unheard of.