it's cold and lonely as I look outside at the rain falling down from the sky; darker than the eyes reflecting at the middle of the cracked window.
it's so lonely, I am so lonely, the voices keep repeating inside my head, over and over again, as if a forgotten jingle has taken a life of its own.
I don't feel lonely now, I feel afraid; when will the voices stop calling my name ?
when will I be just nothing ?
silence speaks louder than any broken heart screaming; for whatever it's worth, I've always found chaos to be very comforting. it soothes my scars and gives my mind something to think about, something other than this cold lonely hour I cannot tick off the clock.
I wonder where people are right now, so many people doing so many different things in so many different places around the world, it's breath taking and so mundane at the same time, to think about how fragile my own existence is, and how much I crave what doesn't exists at all.
how do you explain what you feel when you feel everything and nothing ?
how do you survive in a perfectly boring equilibrium whilst being ripped apart by the extremes waging war inside of you ?
how do you explain to them how much you want to talk about absolutely nothing ?
the light is flickering inside the room and it's making me drowsy, I don't know if I'm on anything or not right now, for lately it has been so hard for me to tell reality from hallucination, wisdom from fiction, and monsters from me.
I feel as if I'm always floating just inches away from drowning, but miles away from dying, thinking about life and death, and all the felonies they bring with themselves.
maybe life, and death are just people, people like me and maybe people like you, maybe there's a man in the sky and a woman out there to fall in love with me, a love that's pure, to make a religion that's holy and divine, and as magical as any fairytale there ever was.
the clock is finally ticking, and I can feel it moving in the wrong direction, I want to speak and tell it how wrong it is, I want to scream and let it know that I know better but I am paralysed, from eyes and up, and I don't know if I can move my arms or wipe away the tears, I'm too afraid to even try.
maybe the man on the other side of the window can help me, he looks familiar but I've forgotten his name, there's somebody in his eyes, and I think I remember that face too, but he looks much older than what I think he used to be, or maybe I'm just younger.
I don't know why there's a crack just around his lips, what caused it, and the story, the history and poetry behind it; maybe it's there to make him look like an old man with a crooked smile, or perhaps, it just is, without a reason.
reasons scare me, everybody has a reason, or so they think, or so they pretend.
monsters, and ****** and gods and men, strangers, lovers, enemies and friends.
I don't have a reason tonight, or that's what I think.
the clock has stopped ticking, the rain has stopped falling, maybe the sky will be cleared, or not; it never mattered to me anyhow.
I feel as if there's a moment just around the corner, I'm going to pass by and make my home inside of, maybe because I've shed enough hurt, or maybe there's not enough to keep me going, but perhaps it's because every once in a while the glass is half full, rather than being broken and sharp.
it's a tuesday, and it's 3 am, and I don't know if there's going to be any sun tomorrow.
the only thing I'm sure of, is that, I'm not the man on the other side of anything, I'm on this side, here, and now;
and that's all there is to it.
if you like this , I'd probably add more to it and keep this going and make a better story out of it. let me know.