we become the guy who walks up the rooftop to smoke
after sneaking some happiness inside the loo
embraced by and paranoid about the darkness and shadows
breezing as you puff your cigarette
feeling calm and light
the sky is based with an ocean at night
with a blanket of purple smoke
silhouettes of life around
you hear yourself again
we hear distant cars and busy streets

from the rooftop we have chosen to walk up to

Often, we learn not to accept,
Rather, how to live with things.
The structures that were left,
Are ruins marking memory of feelings.

Before you, you see what was,
What will never be.
Hoping each day it'll pass,
From pain, one be free.

You wake up and convince yourself,
Drown life with distractions.
Tomorrow, you won't get help,
Letting the autopilot be set in motion.

For whatever its worth,
You survived before.
But just because you've fought,
Absence of sting isn't assured for.

Is this what ought to be,
Are these the sights I wanna see?
Is this how I wanna feel,
Each day the sunrise turns real?

This was dreamland of yesteryears,
Now a solid ground for hope and fears.
Young and stupid or old and wise?
Breathe; and tell yourself what applies.

Live; and remember these days,
This surely is a way how a story plays.
Gravitate towards your center,
There are new places we're about to enter.

There's something about this rain.

There's water.
Not any other water.

They come from homes,
rooms, streets, anywhere.

This is what I need for the solitude;
For a man still burning like a church on fire.

Does it really need some counsel --
What you think merits a discussion?
Or a surge of validation as they do tell --
Poking fun on your mind’s imagination.
There is a need to cross this certain level
As near the end is a lemon-scented creation.

Options are not just the old old and new,
But of perceived passion, service, or stability
Answers that lead to the next you,
Duty or happiness – which will be pretty?
Go on and find one more true hue,
Learn your ways and know thyself in this dichotomy.