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.