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.