It's wonderful and sickening
that I can almost sense you here
in this black hole that couldn't lead to
anything but the disaster that I've learned to
expect every time I give in to the idea
of running my fingers through your hair
and pretending your stomach is pressed against mine
with your arms locking me in place
your lips on my neck
and our legs intertwined.
But when I reach my hands in this
darkness that I can't seem to escape,
I swear your fingertips are outlined
against my own,
veins caressing veins,
skin electrifying skin,
and if I want to survive
your life support can't let me go.
You're within reach
And I'm terrified.
to live by hallucinations.
But you're already in my bloodstream
And as with any time blood is spilled,
this is going to get ugly.
that runaway's life once again felt
cut short of finding new home
instead a odyssey
of heart and mind forged
inside this extended mull
knowing no end
..where the land petered out
narrowing to nothing
where cold tides
always running in and out
on top of each other
and are hard to tell apart
they don't even matter
unattended thin stretch
he stays brooded upon
allowing him to run no further
..his unfolding life
into the swift gulf stream
pulling him down into the rip
one day it is as dangerous as hell
the following day
becoming the safe place
where all his visions toss and roll
calmly out to sea
something either ended or began here long ago
but i don't remember which
but it is enough to just be
he says with half a care
his voice lulls in low tone
old as the atlantic now
looking back over his shoulder
he is reconciled to all the other places
that might have been
just as remote
of a possibility
as this one his life places in
but the runaway will always be here
as perpetual as the shift in the dunes
that purple silhouette again
up beach, following the sunset
as far as it can go
my shattered heart.
But She didnt went and left us for no reason.
She knew she was missing out something.
And she felt it in her veins, in her deep brain connections,
she felt it calling, something was trying to escape, ripping off the skin of the tips of her toes.
And She went after the rabbit, and she trusted the rabbit, although she could see him fading away, although she knew all this vision were just a metaphor for her deep desire to leave all the pain she carried in her heart.
She had no clue of a solution of any kind.
This world that they said being ruled by the intellect, the reason, the sagacity, the wisdom, was after all nothing more than an ugly play taking place on the roof of the finest of all the theater halls.
So she decided to leave it all behind. She decided that was better to be just a witness of this shameless decadent staging they called "Life".
So she left... perhaps to never come back.
Christmas was the one day of the year when the guns died away...
There were soldiers from two different sides and two different worlds,
But we all spoke the same language on Christmas.
December 24th, 11:50 pm
There are only 10 precious minutes until Christmas.
I can hear gunshots BOOMING and BANGING on all sides around me...
The sky is like a piece of black velvet.
It looks simply stunning when compared to
The snow that is marred with blood more red than drunk, bloodshot eyes.
All around me,
I see men gasping, gulping, and grabbing for air.
I can see the heat rising from their decaying bodies.
I have been instructed to not help them.
They're just gooks after all...
They don't live, breathe, and bleed just like you and me.
They are monsters who crave American blood...
December 24th, 11:59 pm
The guns are more heated than ever.
My adrenaline is racing.
The crisp, frosty air is kicking my ass right now.
The tears that I have shed are now frozen to my face.
My legs are numb and no yet waking,
My frigid pate is aching,
My blackened heart is breaking,
My blue hands that hold my damn gun are shaking,
And I can taste blood whenever I swallow,
But I cannot stop running.
I've been told that I'll die if I do...
December 25th, 12:00 am
Guns cease to fire...?
"Why have they stopped firing?"
I shout to my neighbor.
He just grins like the little boy he truly is, and simply responds,
All over the battlefield,
Men hoot and holler with joy and glee.
Each man is a little boy, once again.
The only guns we know of are plastic and squirt water...
But in the adult world,
The guns and insults stop.
In their place,
Men sing praise to the God they often curse,
And remember Rudolph, Frosty, and the other childish characters who used to make them innocently smile.
December 25th, 12:10 am
Every man who has not yet fallen has found a place to rest his head for the night.
We temporarily become friends with our enemies.
Friends, obviously, meaning people who agree to not shoot at each other for a mere 24 hours...
My buddy pulls out a flask from his sack,
And he spreads a little "Christmas Cheer" around the trench.
We all act like camels, and retain as much cheer as possible...
We'll need all the cheer we can get if we're going to survive for more than five minutes in the next round of hell.
December 25th, 12:00 pm
We take the time to sleep...
We take the time to quietly talk about our girls back home...
About the families that we've left behind...
About the food, activities, and places we miss most...
We make the most of every small, yet precious, moment that goes without a shot or kill.
For a minute,
I forget where I am.
I am actually happy for a moment.
December 26th, 12:01 am
We remember that we're supposed to kill each other,
So I let my gun do all the talking for me.
Christmas is the only time to be friends...
Any other day is a day to kill.
Christmas is a universal language.
Evidently everyone can understand it...
I guess it's just mutual that we take the time to NOT kill each other.
So are we going to kill each other until there are no more men standing?
If it were up to me, every day would be Christmas...
Then I could actually go home.
I'm living just to die
I'm smiling just to run
I'm laughing just to fake
I'm getting tired I swear I can feel the demons talking
their voices won't disappear they hunt me
I feel weak only god can save me from falling
I get down on my knees I beg and bleed
for forgiveness and for all my sins to be washed away
I cry as I look at the sky
I hurt as I look at me
I bleed as I look at him
please god help me before I lose my mind
I'm trying to smile , laugh
but these wounds are too deep for me to hide
I'm losing what I thought I'll never have
I don't want to go back to that dark place
where I hide alone in the dark and cry
please god help me ...
"Have you forgotten your ticket... or your luggage?"
Because I wish you did.
I wish we both Had forgotten everything behind, included clothes,
and this bench was a bed, a small bed, so you would have to sleep on my chest.
Tomorrow will be another day. Tomorrow will be another day without check in, without gates, without running, without reading books,
without delays, without waiting queues, without sweat, without planes landing, without the morbid wishes for a plane to crash, without escalatores everywhere, without you.
How I hate airports... How I love airports.
Fucking Airports... full of their welcome laughs and goodbye tears, their happy endings and melodramatics departures.
The sad concept of living it's all condensed in this place. You are never happy with what you got till you are sad for what you lost.
But I was happy with you. I was happy at the Dublin Airport.
There is a place
fit for all
to love and learn
we are here
Staring into talking mouths
Wide eyed girl
Exists only outside this place
Forced to play
Along the lines of her face
Hold her down if you can
She needs that in a man
It's not that she needs to
But she wants to
Follow power lines
In the middle
Of the night
She's not gonna sleep
Until the miles add up
Wide eyed girl
Depends on it for her heart to pump.
You are my beat,
a part of me on permanent repeat.
Just the thought of when our eyes meet,
gives me an an elation of pure defeat.
Nothing more to do than just be,
no biased judgement on what we see.
Just our minds set eternally entwined and free,
black or white, hate or love, up or down, agree or disagree.
I would never change a thing about you, me... We.
From the external beat, to the inner workings on my heart,
you've made yourself a special place from the start.
Close, far, near, or apart,
God has painted our paths on the same piece of art.
Even when one thousand pictures cannot tell the story in your eyes,
there's no disguise, no part of you that ever lies.
My soul slowly opens, loves, and cries,
for the beat that may lead to the demise,
of all walls, opening all possibilities in the heavens and skies.
Ive been in my
the room I truly grew up in
three or four times
and every time
it smells the same
except for a new empty feeling
I almost feel the same
and every time
Lay down on my sheet-less
bed and sob like a little girl
My parents asked me to clean out that room
They want to make it into a guest room they said
Dont they realize
thats my room
thats my home
that I feel like dieing when I think about that room
because you know
Im not ready
I am home sick
that room was the only place
that I will