as I lie down to sleep,
these silent memories,
like snails,
slowly crawl into my head,
every memory stuck on replay,
memories of our last kiss
in your small silver car,
the last kiss shared before we faded  away,
like dust we dispersed into air,
memories of that day still
haunt me,
your face
it wont go away,
those beautiful eyes,
the way your touch sent waves of explosions,
inside and outside of  me
you were the only one who could release that feeling in me,
because you knew me,
you once loved me,
such memories are too precious to eradicate,
to make them go away,
how I wish it would never hurt this much to go to bed,
sleeping in a world of old memories,
and shedding oblivious tears.

From dusk until dawn
My head flies into the sky;
My heart travels thousand miles,
Longing for your love...
Darling, I wish you'll be mine...

Whenever I flip the pages of my journal
I feel like my past coincides the present I'm in;
Filled with memories that defined my life
Filled with emotions that drawn me on the inside --

Happiness,
Sorrow,
Excitement,
Boredom,
Sympathy,
Anger,
Anxi­ety,
Self-loathing,

And anything else...
In retrospect, I see all those things
As an indecipherable chain of events
Clustered into a constellation...

And this will forever light up the fragments of my life...

Down that road
Is a place I never wanted to see,
A sound I never wanted to hear,
A painful past I never wanted to feel
Yet it defines most of me.

Down that road
Is a life I used to live --
An unforgettable memory;
A test that wasn't easy
Yet I keep on taking it.

Down that road
Is a secret I never knew
A mystery that had no clue
A lie that seemed to be true...

Down that road
Is a feeling I couldn't bear
Feelings of anger and despair;
A world that didn't seem to care
A sadness I couldn't compare.

...

But down that road
Is a strength I've gathered
A faith that emerged
A price I've earned;
And a lesson learned...

More than once I've tried to push open a door that said pull,
I suppose it's not a coincidence that I have never pulled thoughts
from my head without at first trying to push them away.

Safety precautions say that most doors should open outwards
from an enclosed room, says that it's easier to escape if there were a fire
-there's a fire inside of me, but my door opens inwards
and I'm locked in the corner of the burning room I call my head.

There's a sign over a door in the building I work at,
it says 'exit' in a red light -which I found quite ironic,
if red means stop, and exit means leave, where do I go?

Most of life is spent in anticipation and haste,
anxiety and fear of mistake;
what changes have occurred that have made life a competition?
We were taught as children that 'slow and steady wins the race,'

so why am I speeding up at yellow streetlights,
and running towards red exit signs?

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