If our lives were captured in paintings,

each moment recorded in brush strokes

I would collect all of my

history into a warehouse,

set it on fire

and dance in the pyre's flames-

until everything

turned to ash.

Rock solid brain occulted by tarnished skull
Flesh cradle worshiped by something weak
Crawling soul seeks shelter. Spiraling
Spirals
Spirals speak to my circling spirit

Listening from the shadow of meekness

Is there something wrong with me?
Why is that, you don't look my way?
Is there something wrong with me?
Because you have perceived me in a different way?

I m spinning around in circles
Thinking I would get a chance
But now it seems to have gone astray

Come to me, I won't bite
I just want to talk
Come to me, I won't hate
I just want to be loved

I m looking to you
i m looking for you
Should I be looking inside?
Should I be waiting for you?

Come to me, I m not looking for a fight
I just want to smile
Come to me, to dance along
I just want to laugh

Maybe one day, you ll see
Should I wait for that day?
Why am I asking this from you?
When I should be asking myself.

I think the only way to truly live Forever is to die young and tragically; to go in some incredibly mysterious way; that would be superior and most definitely unforgettable and that could quite possibly be immortality.

Sometimes we need to be careful at the things we're good at, because we might spend the rest of our life doing it.