Ink crawling on aged paper
With tales and stories able to
Take you away from this
Problematic world.

Under your fingerprint lies the
Feel of countless emotions and ideas
Blessed by imagination.

Sweet aroma fills your lungs with a
Breath of crisp pages and
Sacred smoke from an eternal flame of inspiration.

Stains from shed tears caused by
Moments of bittersweet.

United as one with the names
Printed on a page.

Are their emotions mine too?
For they have become a
Key to a door of escape -

Escape from reality.

Where does hierarchy begin?
    Is it where the strong is on top,
and the weak step upon?

Where does your dignity be placed?
   Is it where your always be the winner,
no matter what, even it has bitter taste.

Is SURVIVAL really that cruel?
That some of us are just a tool,
a fool for the strong to be cool.

No, it can't be that bad
yet reality is quite sad.

Despite our hard beginnings
Life still is beautiful
that losing isn't everything.

Dignity is placed -
where you respect yourself the most
and Hierarchy isn't important
to where your love is...

© Pax

"I didn't mean to break it" he said,
Holding my heart in his hands.
"I didn't mean to break it
I swear it wasn't my plan".
He held my mangled heart out,
Unsure of what to do.
"I didn't mean to break it,
But I don't have any glue".
I watched him let the pieces drop
And bounce around the floor.
"I didn't mean to break it,
But I don't love you anymore".

Where the sun goes, I shall follow
I'll grab hold as it rises in the east
And I'll jump off as it sets in the west
With burned hands and scorched feet

Where the fire burns, I shall simmer
I'm better off dying slowly than in a heartbeat
Cold hard sweat beads across the face of apathy
And it's clear I'm in over my head

Where the pavement cracks, I shall fall between
I'm a step closer to redefining destiny
And a step further from where we left our misery
Sitting on the bedside table

Where the world turns, I shall be waiting
I'll tear the bandage off and embrace the scars
And wave goodbye to the passersby
They don't even know how finite they really are

The empire of strings
The garden of war-bugs
The misshapen things
Sight of the unfortunate
Believing for fear for courage
The bird of death potency sings
For the empire of strings

It's impossible to be stranded at sea without loathing your brothers and sisters of the blood
I can tell you all things you already know about silence
It's impossible to experience silence even when stranded at sea
You'll always have screams in your mind to break the silence
Wether you hear them or not
Troubled centering of youth
Both a flesh and a shell
Leveling your every passion to a sheet of comfort
Suddenly one day you wake up feeling alone
You can't explain yourself
You can't find sanctuary in anything but your own squirming mind
Stranded at sea you have the moments of euphoric isolation then crippling delusional silence
Some noises sound silent but are in fact louder than anything else
Stranded at sea you have no option for asylum or temptation for youth
Your troubles are not what swims underneath your thin raft
Your troubles float in an invisible orb in your void of contentment
All impartial to the self taught interaction of various possibilities
Challenge the possibilities and you'll never rest again

I'm so tired of floating on my safety
But the mysteries beneath beckon like a dead prisoner

Stranded at sea I close my eyes in the baking sun and observe every atom that makes up my sight
Efforts are futile but respected by the jury of neurons and nerves
Stranded at sea my skin slowly burns off my bones
My skull shrinks and my stomach digests any and all hope remaining
Stranded at sea I will die
But at least I'll die stranded