I'm tired of writing, like I'm a writer and not like I'm a normal guy. A human being with feelings, that getting hurt more and more by the day. In fact this normal guy, is crying normal tears, for normal situations. So what is love...? And should it treat the ways Ive been seeing all my life... Or are the non dreamers, correct, and is love just ( Read more... )

Dear Judge ( Read more... )

Im sorry.

So he sleeps with his arm over a pillow ( Read more... )

He lays down staring at white ceilings. His ink well dried, feather broke, and paper full of empty words. The promises, lessons he thought he learned, and the answers to questions, he never thought he'd ask again. So what is now...? And when it's happening what should I do with it...? The dreams, awake only to be nightmares, of a life. Where he ( Read more... )

So the fields of white and warmth, turned cold and gray in the rain. Where the wake of all that you've been fighting back, falls to pieces. The body parts fail you, and you cant move. You just stand, joints frozen. Staring over the fields you've found yourself in. The world goes on, without you... And all the after thoughts, after words, after ( Read more... )

So you lose yourself in the moments, and the conclusions, of answers that were written on little notes of reason. Somehow those notes got burned to ashes... And when the ashes could no longer burn, all you were left with was dust, soon to be blown in the wind.

And so they dance on the wings of eternity, and all that has been read, was written just so that they could have that final moment. And as long as you dream, you can never sleep forever. The smile, light in the eyes, flash, to the strike of a match that ignites the fire, around the candles surrounding it. Where everything finally makes since, and ( Read more... )

And so the writer asked the words one last time, to define love. His eyes tired, and soul falling asleep at the wheel, he has not the strength to reach for it, while headed over a cliff. He falls to find nothing. The absolute and all knowing, while altogether unimportant and unnatural, unfit, and otherwise unfelt. The writer looks upon his stories ( Read more... )

This is the end... Conclusion. You lost me now... I had a perfect thing and I put it through hell because I believed somewhere inside of us, we were meant to be together... Forever if there is such a thing is not for us. And it never will be. Fuck you, for every empty word you said to me. Something you didn't know is that I was battling with the ( Read more... )