It's upon these cold stones
Which now, I choose to sit, and wait.

Alone at sunrise, fear, hatred and of course, this synthetic 'Art of Doubt'....become me.

The ridged steps- my only companionship
the true essence of cold.

as my fingers numb, and I can barley type this out
Honestly know
I wonder how long and painful
death by ice
really must be.

Beside me; a building filled with everything I could ever ask for want or even need.

Everything.

And yet , Upon these Cold stones
I sit, just a while longer
To remember what I still have. Not mourn what I've lost.

But mainly, to be a man who doesnt deserve anything inside that wonderful, overwhelming sentimental house. Be it people, possessions even the animals-on those cold steps of reality-he deserves where he rests.
They all deserve more than what I thought I could haven given them.
More than this.
I am so sorry Dad.
Im very sorry Mom.

Thank you, for these cold stones.  You will never understand the gratitude, which one day
I must leave behind,
of all the these priceless blessings.

But for now
It's upon these
Oh so cold, disgracelesss stones- you and me are too alike
melted with liquid burned and with fire, me and these cold stones
know true
desperation.

Sometimes I regret every single thing
And
In my pain- I pass on by

emotionless  oh but still it hurts

You tell the truth,

N I dodge your smoke,

As if sometime I could regret.


away and then I cry....

Won't you go away?

emotionless

Prove to me
That steadily
My hands will cease to shake

& try to show me
another way to see....

Promise me,
All I'm so unsure of

Promise me-
That even this will pass.

Through the window on the basement floor, the truth still speaks; a friend
Reminding me, compassionately
That love and their plans must end.
Now, To sever two souls
But set only one free-
Is by far a painless feat.
How can the severed truly believe
Their love wasn't bound by deceit?
We may lie and hurt, deceive n depart. Argue and destroy,
Ruin precious art;
Burn precious songs to be left in your heart-
We may scar and ignore, avoid and then face
but no magic or time; Not a thing can erase

The Music we share
as
the 'Music'

We Face.

you always
preferred windows

to mirrors
they were more

reflective to you
the outside

spoke to you
in ways you

could never
speak to yourself

Pray for Truth
n Prey on Lies,
what is a prayer if not worry's disguise?
and then what of said worry, now so clear in our eyes?

Pray that fate wont fail me now-
preying on doubts which always allow,
In worries disdain, the unwavering Tao,

to this critical prayer's
undone what-ifs and what-nows?