Lets count the stars tonight
Under the comfort of dreams
Just you and me
Lets count the stars each night
Until the end of my life
For the rest of your life
Count them down to one
When the star that warms the day
Comes crawling over the distant
And cast shade over us
Then let us rest under this tree
Planted by you
Planted by me
Under the comfort of dreams
Where we will lay until the sun sleeps
Then lets count the stars again
And again and
again
Till we have counted every one
And recorded every breath
And felt every beat
And died over and over
In each others arms
While counting the stars
Under the comfort of dreams

People are quite similar, different but similar. What can happen once, can happen twice. What can happen twice can happen over and over. There's no anomaly in this sense. What I feel is happening all over the world. Perhaps, I've gotten good at spotting fake smiles because when one wears one, one learns to spot one. Check the eyes. The smile is on the mouth yet absent from the eyes. I seek for what is missing. So I study others to find my missing puzzle piece. A trial and error, for I find myself chasing the joy others are having. But after awhile, I realize that I'm just different. I react differently to stimulus provided by life. I realize that I'm stronger than how I once believed, those days I lay alone too exhausted that death sounds appealing. But to lay down with tears, I realize it's not over yet. So I look foolish and get up after thinking I couldn't take anymore. I keep walking. My desires are misleading and failure is common, but I walk anyway. And maybe it's a desire I have.. the possibility that things will get better.

People are social, they love to talk. Doesn't matter with who, even with those they dislike. Could it be to feed a need? The chocolate of social activity? I don't specialize in keeping small talk, nor a fan of it. I often hear people talk about the importance of eating and drinking well, the way of a healthy lifestyle. But shouldn't there be a class about talking well? There are naturals, but for me it's not the same. The mimickers, those who emulate the behaviour and those who do it on instinct. I, upset the balance because of my ways.

People see me and expect me to be something great. I upset their expectation and cause disappointment. I'm familiar with the term. What seems to be a long term game.

People are like fruits, I was told. *Feed them well with what they need and they'll grow ripe and well.

Leave me be,

Let me sleep,

For I have a very short fuse.

It becomes exhausting to come up with some ******* statement to intrigue thee. I'm not the everyday "raconteur" of great stories or jolly experiences. To be honest with each and every individual I meet about the struggles I face would take the courage I don't have. So I avoid the situation all together.

What does it mean to **** at adulting?

The question I despise the most upon meeting relatives or friends of family is...

"So what are your future plans?" i.e. (What are your accomplishments that will delight me? What are your goals? How much money are you making out of this?) I agree in which it's quite a bold matter to address, but the question ***** the life RIGHT out of childhood.

That's when I know I **** at adulting.

I repulse the means to grow up and get my **** together. Some would characterize it as extreme laziness, carelessness or even stupidity. But most times I feel as though if you don't understand the challenges I face, you wouldn't understand my dilemma.

I might as well destroy if I can't build, and only hope that something rises from the ashes like a Phoenix who's flame burnt out a long time ago.

Can't. Won't. Will not.
I see you there. My weakness.
You aren't always there. You pick
And You choose.
Heart bump. Instagram. Dread.
Same old game. Can't grow up. Can not move on. You're always there. Waiting.
Apathy. Desire. Fear. Loathing.
A cycle of reincarnation. An atheist Buddha. The same life. Feeling new by it's blistening intensity. Just raw.
Festering and sterile.
I do blame You. For everything. But I won't walk away from You. Depression is obsession.  I'm consumed by You.
Cold. Can't see. Can't think. Blood moving eerily. Playing Axis and allies. Can't speak.
You hit me the morning after. I don't like myself. I'm late for work. Again. I dissapointed my Father. Again. I Made bad decisions. Again. Even this sick soliloquy, is  no therapy for me anymore. You watch me. You'll stay for a while. Your face is painfully expressionless. Your eyes dull. You'll be back again. Like the cold winds and goosebumps. One leading to another. Fading, for only a while. If I make it this time I'll see you on the other side.
And if not, at least I'll, go in the light. Even if hell fire is all I right.
Maybe You'll be there waiting. And you won't ever go. I'd miss you. I'd miss you so.

By Arcassin B & wolf spirit

WS: little eyes, what do you see
reflections of what we're meant to be
i'm looking at you, you're looking at me
but do you really, truly see?
what lives within the heart of me?
AB: little eyes, tell me is it me,
Directions in what you choose will be
The vision is clear, glancing at my face,
Do you invest all your time in empathy?
should I give you a chance to be free?
WS: little eyes..how large is your world
do you look to me to see your dreams unfurled?
i look at you with tired eyes
open to prospect and sweet surprise
looking into your little eyes
AB: little eyes, wont you tell me your name,
Receptive to your realities of this place
Staring at a bunch of leaves,
What in the can you retrieve and believe,
Watching as the world dies
WS: little eyes, how much do you see?
do you reach within to the soul of me?
can we make bygones into goodbyes
languid, restful in these little eyes?