Old New York stared back -resolute,
as I tried to write.
Every line seemed trite.
A scribble here,
A doodle there,
The paper was pale with frustration
And my hands were distraught with tension;
couldn't write a decent line.
Not even after a few glasses of wine.
I love the city and how nothing stops moving,
but perhaps
It moved too fast.

Is hard to sleep when the mind keeps screaming
Instead of dreaming it's choosing to blur the reality a little more
Brimming with shoulds and should nots
Couldn't and could've been
But we would not succumb
Replaying the same memory of the second defeat so we don't morph into an headless hero
Ones and zeroes bounce restless in relentless persuite of the truth
You're a hero even if your greatest feat is not flinging yourself off the cliff
Everyone wants to fly but once in sky
You'll be dying to land and you land too hard you die
You're trying too hard you're not trying hard enough
Which one is it, do we take the next step of giveup
The next step is breathing
So vote maybe?
But it isn't so bad if you look closely
We're not alone but a bit lonely
In a crowd going about discredited the happening
Cutting off the threads, we can't move we're just dangling
The one thing, out if pills of sanity
Spring from attachment
We now have chose between two addictions
We'd rather be free and starve than be behind bars
So we let go
We exist at extremes
They exist in middle
We meet twice everytime
Graze by each other
A bit of refill of regret
A living reminder
We can't sleep
Can't shake the fright
The voices are back in the house
They're looking for a fight
We might let them win this time

How do we explain a near death experience
Especially when it was the first fresh breath we took
How to explain light
When dark is all that’s ever know
How do you turn to blasphemy
When God’s light directly shines
And enlighten the most important movement of one’s life
How do we even begin to explain
When we died for the last time
Still we can try borrowing quotes
And metaphors, rhymes and tinker of words
Though they will be as useful as trying to eat fire and sip rocks
But how do you stitch a soul into something
When you’ve only known hollow inside
This was how it was
When we saw them for the first time
You don’t realize drowning
Till you touch the surface for the first time
It was a dance slow and steady
Our beings so close even air changed it path
Yet so far way, we couldn’t have been further apart
It was was that time when time didn’t exist
when blood came easy
And breath came harsh
How do we explain them
Without tassing every sorry excuse for a phrase
Into the river in despair
Full of more soul than soulful
And holding more sorrow
Than a broken something in middle of the most beautiful
...One thing
The sole living evidence that god existed
And a sweet sting that The devil is not too far behind
For something so divine cannot exist without
Existence exiting itself
A faithful service, a conspiracy between coincidence and fate
Masters of talking to much and saying nothing
While being too much and existing nowhere
Who bear more meaning than meaning of meaning itself
And holds less meaning that the word iqwbefbl
This is the most accurate description of the time
We saw, when the heart of stone spared a beat
For the first time
And the last time

The pen from my hand, now on the ground.
It rolls, it runs, it leaves.
The words from my mind, the ones meant for my paper, are gone.
They've fallen as well, they ran away.
Blank is my mind
gone are my words.
Fallen is the pen
the depths of which it has ventured through in the past
are now a thing
of the past.