it's interesting how, at night,  the smoke only reveals itself when shone on by the light. it's not even only the smoke -- it's the wind that moves it.

i thought of you while i smoked those three cigarettes. i can only reveal my true self when i'm with you. you are my light; the only one who possesses the ability to bring out the beauty in me, the beauty i've been keeping in for a very long time.

i'm intoxicated. both by the cigarettes and by you.

I would have lied if I said we were a bed of roses. It seemed too much like we were only a bouquet of flowers. I did not tire of watching sun rays bask on our skins. But I have been losing count of sunsets and you have been losing hue. There was never a 'too late to part' and I dread for the sun to rise. You were never a rose with thorns. And there was no beauty in the world; as in a definition. Perhaps you were aware. Your touch on my skin is cold and fear is a monster; you either tame it, or be subdued. If we weren't merely numbers of the yesteryears, I do not understand why these meadows remind me of a barren field.

I have not done what he has done,
I know where he has been.
He has not been where I have gone,
yet knows the things I did.
I am my Fathers Son.
He tried to shield me from this path,
I wanted to follow his.
He never told anyone ,
I wanted to hear all of it.
I am my Fathers Son.
Together we now see each other,
the shroud has been lowered down.
The things that needed doing then,
still need doing now.
I grear up as he did then,
I am my Fathers Son.