I do not fear death. In death, it is not about the journey. It is the destination, and the path set for you to take.

Catch every stone they throw and build your walls.

Remember, only you can be the best you that you can possibly be.

Not everything that glitters
           Is always gold.
                    But it still shines.

What is it about a tattoo
That I love?
The pain? Maybe.
I love the way it hurts
When it's actually something
That I want.
Or the way the needle
Touches the skin
And I become the canvas.
My body becomes the canvas
For the work of art
A display for all to see
And some to admire.
Perhaps I enjoy the way
The hand moves in a way so graceful
That the artist
Actually becomes an author.
Perhaps because the piece
Becomes a background of who I am.
And who I am is different.
Different is the same as beauty
In the eye of the beholder.
Or to those
Who only see it as more ink
On a blank piece of paper.

The man who has only one eye will not need both to see the destruction caused by the man with only one hand. And the man who is deaf will not need his ears to hear the lies coming from the man without a tongue.

Each unsettling measure of nerve that remained, shrieking, longing for acknowledgement. Dulling my senses, shrouding me placing me in a situation and a relatively deep and dark abyss where my once every joyous memory my every childhood dream, residing in an area that even I wasn't sure existed, remaining to be seen but had I journeyed long and far to find that land - My mind.