It hurts to look at you.
It hurts when I don't.
I hate to desire you.
I hate it with unquantifiable passion.
I can no longer remember life without you.
And I remember the day I met you.
But I don't remember the day you started forming part of me.
I don't remember how it happened.
It's like smoking or caffeine, you know?
A day is not 24 hrs after them.
A day is a pack of cigarettes.
A day is a cup of coffee.
And you can't remember what is like life without them.
That's how you are.
Are you a drug?
Doubtful.
Are you addictive?
Certainly.


I think, feel, breath, taste you, every second...

We may explore what life can give,
We can search for answers,
We can search for truths,
But the only real truth is,
Life's secret are always hidden.
No matter how hard we try to find them,
The answers we are able to get are limited.
In fact, no matter how high we aimed,
He will always be tied up by everything.
Specially by every day cares.
We, the humans, are not gods.
Books, machines, senses, wont reveal the essence of life.
Whatever we use to try and explain or understand can't go further than our thoughts.
And our thoughts will be limited by ours words, our culture, stuff around us.
Therefor, it is safe to say that as humans we will never be able to achieve
more than what is limited by our human nature.
And what it might be most important,
The highest man can achieve will always be limited by the limits he has created for himself.

My pulse races through my fingertips.
A thousand emotions pounding inside me.
My heart beats erratic.
My body implores you,
He urges you to grasp it harder,
To squeeze it tighter,
To show no mercy.
Let your marks form bruises on my skin.
Make your touch linger after you're gone.
Feel me, completely.
Let me feel you, so deeply.
Grip me.
Owe me.
Use me.
Hold me.
Closely.
Flesh with flesh.
Bones with bones.
Blood with blood.
Let me wrapped you tightly between my tights.
Tightly, so tightly.
Stay here.
For ever stay here.

There is not enough blood.
There is not enough time.
There aren't enough words.
My thoughts go beyond time and reason.
My feelings go deeper than what my senses can experience.
They both go beyond concepts or absurd intents to try and describe them.
I have found a brick wall.
The words I use to express myself can only go so far.
Words tightly secure the muzzle on those who cannot wield them.
Words and concepts limited us.
After all they are human creations.
With the concept of beauty, we have create ugliness.
We are the creators and we are the slaves.

I'm begining to think my life might be a chain guided by an opposing view of gravity.
It seems, even though I seek out quality and sincerity, I am constanly thrown away from these things in such a way that I don't notice until it' much too late.
Am I misinterpreting the series, or am I begining to understand I have found my answer?
The series doesn't seem complicated, and my refusal of admitting that the end is near is due to the infiltration of bad science into my character.
I am conducting an experiment with an outcome in mind.
While it isn't a perfect one, it's certainly desirable compared to this haunting, logical absolute.
I can't be alone. I can't be the only one. But really?
I'm being forced to realize that I have to replace 'can't' with 'I wish I wasn't'.
I'm getting the obvious thrown in my face, but I can't afford to cry everyday.
I'm expecting just a little too much.
Which is to say, expecting anything at all.
And now I'm paying the price. Haha. But I'm fine, ya'll.
I've tried everything but suicide, but even then, it's crossed my mind.
In ten years time, most of you won't know me.
Laugh out loud, the person saying this won't know me.
And that's beauty at work.
Looks like we get to focus on the now, and live it up.
Experience. Laughter. Tears. Love. And on and on.
If you want to know me, this is the closest thing you'll ever be able to relate to : Insanity is evolution is change is love.
I am the craziest person you'll meet, I just have my shit straight.
And this is so much more for me than it is for you.
Just remember that, and we'll be fine.

I have an unquenchable headache.
My eyes burn and throb.
I can feel my bones as if bruised.
What do you want from me?
The answer becomes clear,
silvery as if illuminated by moonlight.
I refused to believe it for so long.
And those trickeries,
so reminiscent of those movies and books
that spoke of love and happiness and despair.
Trickeries isn't a word.
That's what they tell me.
That's all I can hear when of all things
this is truly the most irrelevant.
So did I make a wrong turn?
As those poets say,
did I lose myself along the way?
What pitiful babble.
What nonsensical bullshit.
Intellectual manure.
And why amI supposed to speak of my loneliness in the fine and refined language?
Supposed to tell them all about it?
Once I thought there was honor,
spilling my blood upon a page.
Killing myself, oh so slowly, so you could read all about it.
I don't think I was wrong.
But who wants honor anyway?
Who wants regard and fame and prestige,
if it's only source comes from you?
That general, unreachable, can.do.no.wrong, you.
I've never been in this for the wrong reasons,
but you've talked and muttered and screamed and whispered,
and I hate the sound of whispers.
And I've heard every last word,
and I've felt every nuance of change.
Let me speak my language now, for a second.
I'll post it up on a banner,
so that I can see it.
As an extension of myself where I'm most comfortable.
Come and let my words paint a face.
Come and let them inspire passion in you,
Let me inspire you hatred, disgust, mirth, disdain, joy, ecstasy, love, pain, madness.
Let make that mask of indifference fall from your face for even a second.

This isn't a world of success;
It is a world of attempts.
To truly fail is to never try.
For what happiness can be cultivated from a life wasted away?
To play it safe and never risk it all,
Is to give up from the initial beginning.
It is playing into the world's unquestioned misconception.
Where is the accomplishment in a life only comprised of safety and comfort?
Is reality actually the truth?
Or is it only the denial of dreams to become true?
Failure. Why is this idea so bone rattling?
Failure is basically defined as the lack of success.
The lack of success by who standards?
Of your own?
Or of what you are told?
How can one truly fail?
Consider the thought, if you will, of what is exactly success.
Success is not fame, glamor, riches, power, etc.
-At least not by my standards.
Not of my thoughts, which are my own,
Not what I have been told.
Not what I have been taught or preached or swayed to believe.
No, no, no,
These thoughts are mine.
And with that said,
I must impose another question,
When precisely the connect to success equals happiness?
In all actuality, there are two different things entirely.
There is no connection; no knot to tie them.
But wait, yes there is.
Or at least there is a lovely fabrication of one.
It's not your own, of course.
But society's once again predominate influence.
The influence that tear your hopes and dreams to shreds.
Maybe that is why hope only comes in gleams.
They don't want your soul and could care less about your mind.
They want you as a drone to fill and slip
By their standards and not your own.
Success, failure, happiness.
I see success in failure and failure in success.
But it all depends on what of the explanation.
Failure is to try, to pursue something you believe in.
I see no failure in that.
Success?
Maybe it is just comprising beliefs, morals, truths
For that spot on a television screen.
And to be honest,
I see happiness as success.
Not be switched.
Because in my opinion,
What more could you ask for besides happiness?
But happiness is for you define, and you alone.
Not me, not your family, not your friends,
not your heroes, not your teachers, not your priest,
not Hollywood, not TV,
nor the photo shopped cover of a magazine.
Happiness is different for everyone
It is the greatest thing you can have and the biggest misconception.
I may be a fool,
But I'd like to believe this is true.
And I wish these thoughts of mine weren't alone.

Destruction and creation are two sides of the same intrinsically holy faculty of change.

With the arrival of one, the guarantee of the other arrives as well.

So hold fast to what you love, so that you may cherish it so long as it is here.

Learn also, though, the quiet, sad satisfaction that is carried with saying goodbye...

It wasn't long ago that I was convinced that "this" is all there is.
It wasn't long ago that I found a brick wall.

It wasn't long ago that I stopped believing the things you said.
It wasn't long ago that I stopped believing the things I said.

It wasn't long ago that I realized there was still much that we were completely clueless and simultaneously persuaded by - language -. Now, I fear the very words we use to express ourselves can only go so far, to describe how we feel and how much empathy we have for others - the words limit us - .

It wasn't that long ago that I saw language for what it truly should be . . . an accent. A "snifter" if you will - while you're in the hall of understanding reading all those books - all those books without words. Oscillations and vibrations do exist all over the universe , but they don't always have to account for all the information. Just the signature.

It was long ago that I realized the truest communication is the simplest communication .

This is the part of me,
That needs medication.
This is the part of me,
That lacks desperation.
What a perfect system,
Of chance and choice.
If we rise above,
It would seem there are even holes in the sky.
If we choose to love,
The immediate possibility of rejection appears.
The world,
It seems to me,
Is pushing in on us,
Almost too hard.
Is the trick forgetting then?
No, no it's not.
Nor is it lying.
Or closing our eyes.
The trick?
Get close to someone,
And God do I mean close;
But don't ever leave.
The Devil may tempt you,
But never,
Ever,
Leave.

I'm not who you think I am.
Nothing of what you think of me is real.
Nothing.
I'm an illusion.
Literally.
What you think I am is only the person I've wanted everyone to think I was.
But I'm not.
I'm not, I'm not, I'm not.
I'm just a perfect liar.
Why, yes I am.
I have created my own little world, you see.
And I have managed to get everyone inside of it.
In this little world of mine, I'm strong enough not to care,
strong enough to get through shit and come out clean.
In my world I know I don't need anyone,
and I feel safe, in control, complete.
But in real life, is not always that way.
Sometimes I feel so powerless.
Sometimes I wish there was someone holding my hand
telling me "Baby, everything will be okay".
CRAP
How I hate life sometimes.
It's such a bitch.
It's making me feel like I'm not myself today.
Like I'm just a scary little girl hiding behind an independent mind.
Because its safe in there.
But maybe I'm not myself today.
Or maybe this is me, and all the other days I was someone else.
But it can't be.
This is me.
Yesterday, even though I fell different, it was also me.
We are always ourselves,
Even when we lie, even when we pretend.
God, enough rambling.
I just feel like taking a long long nap.
But I can't sleep.
I feel so so tired but I'm still not able to sleep.
I hate this shit.

I left that fire behind me.
Turned on my heels and ran, ran straight away.
But it left me with a kiss or two.
I cursed the Sun,
For reproducing so irresponsibly,
And waited for my Moon to come,
and smooth out the wrinkles.
She crept up,
Lying with her quaint one-inch steps,
But arriving just on time.
You can hear the fire crying;
The Sun is pouting around the bend.
My ears are pressed too close to hear,
Anything besides my lover-dear.
Our time is so limited,
Half of what we need;
You have to make it count past the point of counting.
Funny thing is, though?
You can't hold too tight,
Or her clasutraphobia kicks in,
Psycho- and onto- logically.
Our minds/hearts against our body/pasts.
Too many people err on the side of caution,
And what a reckless error that is!
We've a history to lead us away from repeating bad habits!
They convinced us though,
Or deceived rather,
That new always means better.
They switch out their Moon's quicker than you could slap them.
So no thanks.
I've got a pretty good feeling that I'm on the right path,
Thanks to my midnight Illuminator.