What most
of the people
fear of
is their disappointment
in mortality,
the unconvincing possibility
of invincibility  
and everything that is
waiting for the eventuality
while
all they have
to do is just
to embrace it
like letting the wind
wrapping up
their body on a cold, rainy night.

I am indebted
to this life,
for giving me
the meaning
to the
whole context
despite
the meaninglessness
of it.

For its inexistence,
I am just
going to be
another stardust
in a vast, darkly sky
above the raging sea
in every cold, empty night.

lights turn on,
and it wakes me.

I want you to know how it feels like to be in my shoes, just like how you wish that everyone can feel the same as you and despite all of the feelings in this world that are generated by the same kind of source; love and hate, kindness and cruelty, sadness and happiness, we still fail at agreeing on the only great fate for us as we are reluctant to determine what is really right for us and therefore, in return, we can never leave our mark in any era, any generation that we are in, for the failure to avoid our will to consume from the deep within will ensure that we will endure another war, another famine, another epidemic that can only be undone by us, by having the empathy and love towards one another.

lights dim,
and it shatters me.

lock
the door
before
heading
out,
everytime.

innocuous.

to:
edward,
you
are
in our
breath.

r[ain

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ps

on

ev

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aves]

­ec
l
usive.

thousands
think
after seeing
words,
millions
think
after seeing
images,
but
how many
out there
that think
after seeing
an abstract
collection,
of wild patterns
of unidentifiable
intentions?

What if
the black hole,
is something similar
to the door that
Truman Burbank exited;

an alternate world to his, where over there only truth exists?