sweet to hear you voice again

i miss the nights where we'd run to the park
swingin' on the swings
tryna reach the stars but would only end up falling
falling for each other

smoky skies and smoking cigs
that is who i am
but you didn't care as you held me closer than anyone
and made me yours to keep

damn those ocean blue eyes
my baby, i would gladly drown
if it meant i could taste
those lips once more

you were my first don't you know
in more than one sense of the word, oh boy
                                                                         oh boy
                                                                                 oh boy

once you sucked my lips dry of all my worth
and stole my beating heart
tangled yourself in the arms of another and forgot my name
did you finally realise what you lost?

'baby where you goin?'
'baby please i'm sorry baby come back?'
walking away wearing your jacket, smelling cheap aftershave and cigarettes
smells like this love

damn boy

first love

Relations are necessary
If they are to make a truth.
The facts of the matter
Can never be too certain.




I hope that I am visited by
what I think are angels

or demons
(it doesn’t really matter which)


as I wheeze out my last breath,
they reveal to me

that I was actually an alien
from another world

in the misshapen body of a human

for the entirety
of my existence—

all 28,000-or-so

days of it.


my role in
this whole charade

would finally make sense:

all of the mind-numbing


and suffering

and bullying

and incomprehensibility

of the world

laid out before me—

a picnic for a malnourished soul
to finally feast upon,

a glistening Colorado River to drink from


at long last,
to rest beside.

I'm young-
So I sing of youth
Every niceness is beloved
So I would like to be nice.

I'm young-
I dream of new earth
Every success is glad
So I'd like to get success.

I'm young-
So I sing of courage
Every mind is insatiable
So I'd like to be boundless.

I'm young-
So I do afar voyage
Every mission is impossible
So I’d like to be braveness.

I'm young-
So I sing of the morning
Every spring is blooming
So I’d like to get freshness.

I'm young-
So I sing for shining
Every new day is grooming
So I would like to be endless.

I'm young-
So I break with the dark
Every light is a blessing
So I’d like to be gorgeous.

I'm young-
So I do like the spark
Every win is cheering
So I’d like to be victorious.

I'm young-
So I do try up to the bone
Every wish is like an ocean
So I’d like to be audacious.

I'm young-
So I love everyone
Every caste is human
So I’d like to be gracious.

I'm young-
So I do love you
Every love is pure
So I’d like to be sweet lover.

I'm young-
So I do ask you
Every relation looks future
So I would like to be closer.

Will run

I refuse to reuse to the point of self abuse
To run from the fear of knowing
Into the arms of those I've already known


I will create it on my own
Not out of pride for my own success
(of which I will see little)


But because in order for it to exist
I must first find, create and remember this
That, noone besides me
Can ever be me

And that noone will know
If I always say No

Such a strong word. Such a short word. I wish I was better at saying it.

Your message was heard     by those who have felt
the numbness crawling     from a face within.

14:40 - 21/07/17
State of mind: nostalgia; sorrow.

Thoughts: from memories - a tribute in remembrance of Chester Bennington from Linkin Park - he made some of the best music I listened to growing up. Mostly from my teenage years.

Words from the last line are derived from their songs Numb and Papercut.

Listening to: Linkin Park.

Whatever one places their attention on will come to them
Therefore I say to focus on life and you shall have it
The mind can see one aspect at any given moment

The given moment can be populated with only one thought or intention
That which is NOW can only have one inhabitant, purpose, and meaning
That which is NOW is all which is

There can be no separation or distance between one time and another, just what exists here
The past is populated with dead images which cannot persist
Only with our attention can they come forth

So it is attention, I tell you, which must be controlled
Not by the swift hand but by the idle fisherman
Who allows his thoughts to drift from cloud to cloud

Not placing any importance on the meaning of one from the next
Or the worries of the day
Or what he has caught
Or what rests in his basket

But only that he may rest

And if someone should upset his rest he will continue
For he is a law unto himself
And his demeanor is based on his determination
And his determination his demeanor

The man who understands this
Will never worry
For worry is the source of worry
And a never-ending cycle of desperation

The man who seeks to avoid this
Should forget it exists

Because to those who forget
It does not.

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