At the end of the day,
nothing's here to stay.

You can either lose it all,
give up or
give it all away.

Everyone has solutions for queries and problems,
but it's different from being the answer.

The one who you turn to, when all else seems wrong, the one you can count on, against all the odds.

Don't look to me though, look how there's basically no more flow for the rest of this piece. I don't even know what title to give this.

One must imagine Sisyphus ripped.
Shoulders like Boulders.
Quads like God's.
He was literally doing Olympian training!

Called into this world to serve
Not be served
Stop holding back
I am decided
So plan the action
Make it happen
Before those chains
They drag you back

Brother and Sister
Can you hear me

Brother and Sister
I like you very much

Brother and Sister
It was my birthday yesterday and I celebrated my birthday

Brother and Sister
I will come to see you again because I miss you

Like every other
Has never started
Breathless exhausted
Faster than ever
Beats of the heart
What makes it worthwhile
When all is just talk
No time for anything
Complaints abound
Still it's not your fault
When will you stop

How badly do I want to be
What for sure, I know I can
Not could have been, If it's yet to be
Please don't give up the chance
I swear it's not just happenstance
Hour by hour, day by day
You're getting better along the way

For what?
And I am silent.

Don't just listen,
try to hear.
Within the mirror,
The eyes are clear.

No buts, maybes, ifs or whys.
Doesn't matter how hard you try.
When there is no point,
of which you can reference.
To which solidly you have already defined.

"What?" is the question to ask,
For identity of that which brings you sleepless nights,
and anxious days, and hurried breathing, your heart is beating, the hands are shaking, the mind is begging, for the moments of which finally you stop.

For it is seperate, after all.
It identifies as I, me, and my.
Oblivious to that which is deep inside,
The primal emotions, of wanting to thrive.

What is happening?
The pouring of soul, from deep within, the rivers will flow.
But guard your self, from the depths of unconsciousness.
And cherish the precious moments of thinking alone.
The point when you face what you've always feared, you will be glad and you will cheer.

When you finally see it for what it is,
Fear of the Unknown.

"They make a dollar.
While I make a dime.
That's why I always ****,
On company time."

Why do you waste your life
Making dimes and quarters
When you can spend your mind and time
To go make some dollars

But deep down, I already know that I don't apply myself enough. The actions I prioritize and choose to make of my own volition are not in alignment what I think is ideal for me.

Choosing to play a victim battling against his demons, with countless ups and downs. The story never hitting the ******, in fear and anxiety of what unknown variables comes after.

As I know to be true whenever I am down, I will go up. But when I am up, I do not take the actions to progress upwards even further because I don't want to increase the expectations of myself. So I am happy with these hollow meaningless victories against the "torments" of my mind.

Somehow I get a feel of what Da Vinci means by "The sadness will last forever."

The good thing is, I won't.

They're saying starve the ego.
They're saying feed the soul.
But for some reason nobody's mentioned,
they are two sides of the same whole.

I'm afraid of reflecting on myself.

The pressure of expectations of the selves over the years leaves a bitter emotion.
I want to stop writing.
I feel cold.
Palpitations.
The fingers want to retract into balled fists.
The instinct is to curl into fetal position.
The voice lets out a primal moan of agony, of what the self has been through yet knows it hasn't gone through utter despair so the moan fades into a whimper.
The eyes want to close, the eyelids squint, the eyebrows scrunches, the forehead raised.
Irregular breathing.
The back of the hand smashes into the wall behind him.
The fingers loosen.
Silent screaming.
The soul cries out.


..............................................................­...Haaah...


I need a glass of water.

Some people laugh
Some people sing
Some people think of infinity and things.
And if there's anything out there that I want to be
Is someone who won't end themselves way too early

Some people sigh
Some people cry
Others just ponder bout the time that goes by
In the blink of an eye and what could have been
While hoping they never ever wake from their dreams

Some people wonder
Some people dream
Others contemplate alternative timelines
And if there's anything out there that I want to be
Is someone who loves their selves wholly, absolutely