No one knows...
I gave it all up for you.
This is not a love story.
This is empathy.
This is guilt.
This is moral.
You’re not a lover.
You’re family..

I am ..the bow.
I am.. the arrow.
I am the archer.
..I am all of it.

Is starting over a thousand miles away really starting over?  ..No.
It is not even close to starting over.  It is failure by default.  It is pathetic.  As important as distance can be, it isn't healthy at all.
It is weak.
It is cowardice.

Life is weird when you try to do good.

Sometimes honesty seems no better if not worse than lying or avoiding the conclusion altogether.

I come to life as I lay down to sleep.
It has nothing to do with dreaming, but more with the relief I feel.
In those moments, I am invincible and my vision is clear.
In those brief moments, I can relax.  I cannot be touched.
I am alone but I am alive. There is no pressure.

Like an addict coming down,
like an astronaut touching ground...
I am in denial.  I am shocked.  I am traumatized.
This is not happening... even though I want it to.
Even though ..I need it to.

I need to come home.

I used to be a slave to mind
but, now, I am a slave to my body.

He knew what he had to do.  ..He had to **** himself.
He had to put an end to everything he now was
in exchange for becoming everything he had avoided being his entire life.

He wanted to break all of his brushes in half.  He wanted to snap the necks of all his pencils and pens, and tear up any paper in sight.  He wanted to take the canvas that sit before him and slam it on the ground.  He wanted to see the fabric rip, and hear the wood holding it all together crack.  He was infuriated, like a child.  He was infuriated that he was infuriated.  He hated himself for not being able to hold it all together on the inside.  He wanted to take it out ..on anything ..on everything.  

But he knew what he had to do...  It did not matter if it was right or wrong.  That kind of **** hardly matters, he had learned.  At least not in the sense he had believed.  It was all so subjective.  Everything was so foggy.
But he knew what he had to do.  ..He had to make a decision.

He whispered the sword in his chest, and went to sleep.  He thought of nothing, but good things.  

He would rise the next day, revived, as someone new.
A broken heart, exposed.  Like an egg, hatched.
He would rise the phoenix he knew himself to be.
Or else ..he would truly burn ..fry..
in all the hellfire
he had started.

I'm coming.

I've no clue what I was thinking.
I should have never lost myself so.
It feels as though it's all been snapped to dust.
I'm overwhelmed with emotion that this place still stands though.
Finding the most comfortable spot to crash-land this knackered mess of a man, just as it begins to storm.  I just pray I wake to this dream tomorrow.  I just pray I wake from my nightmares at dawn.  I never ever want to leave.  I don't want to age.  I don't want time to keep ticking on.  I want to find some balance.  I want to enjoy what the hell is going on, before it all, too, gets snapped to dust.  I don't want to miss anything else.  Not even a fraction of a moment.
I want you open.
I want you close.

But, what about those moments, when what is being said does not match up with what you feel in the pit of your gut?  Those moments are why we must choose intuition over logic when the two do not align.  It is a very odd kind of trust.

Have at it with a pickax.
All your might.
Crack.  Crumble.
Cry.  Die.  Rebirth.
No holding back.
Break till it opens.
It is the hardest ******* **** to swallow,
but it is true.
It all cannot be tangerines & rainbows.
No lies.

I want to write but I have schoolwork to finish instead.
Tomorrow...

to understand is to destroy worry.
to understand is to be free.

The sky rained as it thought of her
A euphoric storm, soaking the flora below
till all fell silent,
till the sky had emptied itself
& all weathers went quiet

It's all so dramatic.
It's all so serious that it's hard to have fun.
It's hard to enjoy anything when you should be aware of everything.
You either numb yourself, or you trick yourself.
There is no middle ground.
Life might not be black & white,
but it isn't so gray either.
It's too obvious for that.

freedom
is something I find myself constantly redefining.
I find that ..unsettling.

******* trapped...
not even a crossroads...
...a chessboard, no.. a chasm,
instead.

I crumble
inside
every night ..for you.

I've failed.
I failed you.
I failed myself.
I didn't do my best.
I fell short.
I live with it everyday, dost.
I'm not right.
I'm not wrong, but I'm not right.
I'm so lost.
I'm so so lost.
I have no idea what to latch onto anymore.
I just know I have to keep treading dark water.

Parts of him wanted to run away;
&, they did...  The weakest parts of him ran for the hills
in fear of the impending change that brewed within him.

He held on by a thread;
however, that strand
..was stronger than silk.

I have not forgotten you.
You...  ..Not ever.

The weight will not get any lighter; however,
with proper maintenance, the muscle... will grow stronger.

Fire burns,
but it can also forge.
It can if you're bold.
You can break the mold.

If you can bend with the heat,
& learn to gracefully fold,
& submit to each pose, then
you can step out of the furnace
into new natures & frames,
characters, doors, & portals.

It's all so chaotic, now;
I'm not so sure it's worth writing about.

Like an 'r' beside an 'm'...
One of them ...blended in.

I'm a pushover,
& I'm ****** about it;
but, I'm too empathetic
to change myself.

Sometimes, the only way out is to pour it all out.

No one should die without trying.

"Life takes us to strange places,
much like a journey through space does.
But, it is gravity bringing us back
when life, for whatever reason, rushes us along...
one too many paces."

His eyes opened.  His dreams ...faded.
Consciousness set in, & once again caged them.
Light all around him, & still... his pupils dilated:
his soul starved.  For, eons ago it suckled at the ****
of something breathtaking; eons ago it mounted something amazing.  Upon its birth, with this very thing, it impaled & mated.  &, now... the two are separated; he was safe, yes, but, his mouth
missed the nectarous milk that once dripped from her breast.

I rush around so much
that I don't feel "caught up"
with myself sometimes.

I didn't ask.
Nor did I pray.
I didn't beg.
I didn't break any laws.
I ended up taking.  &, it paid off:
I got what I wanted.
No one got hurt.  In fact,
everyone reaped the benefits
the day I stood before a howling horror
& said,

              I'm brave.

I used to have so much time;
I didn’t know what to do with it.
Now I have less time, & I waste it like I'm getting paid to.

Why do I think so poorly of myself when I do so much?
Maybe I do so much because I think so poorly of myself?

Proof is priceless.

I don’t feel good.
I know I’m not bad.
I’m honest.

You are the one person in the world I would sacrifice a life for. Please know that. No matter the **** we go through I am all in. I just want you to be a happy person. I want you to wake up excited. I want you to go to bed satisfied, but I want yoI to still dream. I want you to be passionate. I want you to let go of anger. I want you to grasp life. I want you to go all in, not on me (I know you already do), but on yourself. I want you to acknowledge your worth. And I want you to live up to it: to your full potential. I love you. And I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to jump. I want you to fly. I want you to soar.

I used to have so much free time;
I didn’t know what to do with it.
Now, I have less time; &,
I have no idea what to do.

Failure is sticky.

If you worry when everything seems fine, then perhaps you are in possession of something you don’t want.

I want to set it down & never pick it up again.
I am tired of the taste, of it.. on my breath.
I no longer like the fact
that the warmth from my grip still clings to it,
as its perfume does the same to my skin,
to my hair.. to all that I am.

You want there to be some sort of issue.
You crave mystery & the ironic-yet-familiar sensations that follow.
But the truth is.. there is no problem.

Be brave.
Be honest.

I want to party forever-- i.e., never live up to my potential.
I don't want to be in control; I want to indulge.  I want to let go.
I don't want to find myself; I want to get lost in sin.
I want to do drugs, dance, & drink.
I want to fly --up to manic heights;
&, it is there I want to float & think.
It is there I want to sail forever,
till my eventual tailspin,

when waves of reality
begin crashing in.

He ran back to the place where they used to roam, to the place he left behind.
But, it was different now.  It was dark.
It was cold; &, it was empty.
He fell to his knees in silence. He wanted to scream her name until she showed up and everything went back to how it once was. He knew it wouldn’t matter though. He knew screaming would do nothing. He knew nothing could be done now that the page had turned, now that time itself had passed. He wanted to scream, but knowing nothing could be done, crippled him. He eventually started to moan, instead, inside the void he once called sanctuary. He deflated.
It’s good to “get it out,” they say. &, perhaps it was “good” for him to let it all out, but the pain stayed, & so did he ..in the dark, in that void.

Everything narrowed.... 
& yet eyes began opening to morning sun
as a mouth began to moan,
as the mind & body stretched & woke.
Down the grains went...
as her echo slowed... ...their.. ...fall.

Time dwindled down to nothing,
focus & pressure rose...(               )..like a portal closing.

..& all he had to do
..was take her hand.

By name,
she called out to him.

If you’re going to visualize
you’re going to have to feel.

I
was never good
at letting go.