Life
                                                            ­    has
            a
                       funny
     way
                                           of
                                  
                                ruining

      
                                                      Lives.

Has anyone else been fighting a war they keep losing?
Fighting and fighting, with little difference?
Change of tactics, change of mind, change of though.  
That changes the mind to a unknown prison you can't escape?
That in the end, causes a change of person that you don't recognise when you look on the mirror and repeatedly asked; "What am I?" to no avale?
Or am I just a forgotten soldier, sent to die, in this war?

LI f E: A Prison.
Pain: Something I always feel.
Fame: A waste.
Blame: Something we all do.
War: Death, Pain, conquest.
Flame: Something we all have in us.
Death: Freedom.
Love:  No Definition Found.
Emotion: Pain, anger, hatred.
Definitions: A point.

Dark lies often have a darker truth.

There's three ways of fighting.

Agressive-Using attacks and offensive maneuvers.

Defensive-Blocking and deflecting attacks.

Controling-Using your enemy's attacks and defenses against themselves while not aggressively attacking them nor defending against their attacks.

Sanity owned
Sanity degrading
Sanity sold
Sanity lost.

Ev en                             n Ev er tr ul y iS
                 si l enc e



                                                            ­                      Silent.

Dark rooms
with blacked-out windows.

It's all just a waste.

Tired Minds,
Tired Eyes,
And tired lies.

Have you ever been so tired, You're too tired to sleep?

Time spent.
Time wasted.

The funny thing about silence is,
In my head, It never truly is
silent.

Time,
Lies,
And unwanted Lies.

The funny things about complex minds is that others will never understand them because
they don't even
                                understand
                 ­                                         t
                      ­                                       h
                                                               e
                                                               m
                                                               ­ s
                                                              ­   e
                                                        l
     ­                                                                 ­         v
                    
                                 e
          
                                                         s
  
                                                         .

The darkest thing you'd ever see.

Pai n      voi ces b od ys c o r p s e s gu ilt hat re d ang er sad ness blo od gu ts  ste  nch  de a th    he ll peo ple      ene mys all ies fam ily lov ed o n e s  fri ends   se arin g pa i n b r ok en        b o nes      to rtu re N O mer cy        
men tal    sani ty L O S T                       m in d  br o k e n HIM I am HIM n o i c a nt b e ple as e  just  
ki ll  M E?

Is all just lies.

The flame we all have in us, love, hate, pain, and joy.
It allows us to become stronger than we ever thought before.
To overcome the challenges that face us, to defeat them.
To finally be free of our restraints, to be free, to be....

Happy.

Sick, can't post today.

I'm taking a short break and won't be on again till this weekend.

Some consider me a poet,
a builder,
an artist.

But I'm just a crazy man no one will ever understand

Sometimes I can't tell if the things I'm seeing are real,
Or just in my head.

It's odd how destruction can seem so beautiful.

Even the the prettiest flowers have their thorns.

I feel insane.
Lost.
Betrayed.
Broken.
Hurt.

I can live with my sanity, "Nevermore."

The funny thing is, I can learn so much about a person just from a sentence. When I don't even know who I am.

It's funny really.
How much you can learn about a person from their art,
and then realize....

You never really knew them at all.

Most afraid of death, aren't afraid of life. But death is apart of life,
So what are they afraid of?

It's ironic really, how all truths can so easily become lies.

Dark halls
and darker doors.

If there was a god,
I wouldn't  be here.

Some dark stories never show the ending.

I've tried keep him locked away,
Hidden, long enough that time
will erase him.
I hate him, but he feeds on my hate.
I need him, but don't want him.
I fight him, but he still wins.
But....

He is me

The air is becoming heavy.
You ca n't br e
                             a
                                 t
                            ­      h
                                  e
                                  .


You wake up, You've seen this place before.
You're eyes are hazy, All you can make out is the darkness.
You hear something, a sort of rasping noise. You try to get up to look for a light source, but realize you can't move....

You began to understand what's happening. You start to panic for you know what will unfold next. You hear a scream and try calling out to the source. You know they are in pain for you can feel their pain, Their emotions...
You still can't move, you start to feel the blood running down from your shoulder to your arm.

You can feel every cut, every puncture, every drip of blood falling from your finger tips... It feels like Hell.

You are being tortured, for what reason you do not know. Nor shall you ever. You start to loose your grip on reality and fantasy.
You start to black out....


The air is becoming heavy.
You ca n't br e
                             a
                                 t
                            ­      h
                                  e
                                  .





                                "This is the way the world ends,
                                 This is the way the world ends,
                                This is the way the world ends...
                               Not with a bang, But a whimper...."

Why is it never quiet?
Why are "They" so loud?
Why are "They" in my head?

Why am I not dead?

Nights flies, and old story lies.

I might not be able to post as much next week because of weather conditions. I might lose electricity which means no Wi-Fi. I'll try to keep you updated.

Sick of people.
Sick of life.
Sick of being sick.

You can get so much information from simple things people do;
How they walk,
How they talk,
How they write,
How they react,
And their art....

WhaT d O yo u sEe wHen yOu l o o k aT m E?

Everyone has their demons,
but what if you are
your demon?

How can I be peaceful? When in my head, theres only war?

Some write about broken wings...

I never had wings to fly.

The rain d
                   r
                     i
                       p
                         s
                 as the man walks do
                                                        w
                                                             n
     the str e e t,           It is dark, yet light.
                  Night, yet day.

         Thought, and emotion....
  
Knowledge,                                        ­                                          and fear.
        

        "Fear." The thing that can destroy any man.
Or bring them from the ashes.

Some nights, The only source of light can't be seen.