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Little paper moon, How I can hold you in my hand... How I can move you all around... Change the waves and the sand. Larger little Earth, As pretty as can be... Warm, but yet...so cold...
Killing our own kind, as if we have the right to. Polluting and destroying freely not one, but thousands of minds. We all breathe the same air and the same sun shines on us all.
Are we made to love. As a man I wonder. For every female that I meet I just find such beauty, such grace. It is as though they don't quite belong.
Meaning behind madness is what we seek. Yearning for learning or so to speak. Signs and symbols in a secret seal. Time teaches lessons that dont reveal. Eternal questions without answers.
What's the point in breathing. We all, in turn, will die. What's the point in speaking truth, If some of its a lie. What's the point in hiding, if there's no doubt you'll be found.
I dreamt I was a dog. Running full pelt through the long wet grass, enjoying every moment as it came and went, not a second of my existence spent worrying about a future I knew nothing about.
Two bells toll,. One is young, one is old. Two bells toll. One is birth, one is death, one is fantasy, one is real. Two bells toll. You and I, naked, alone. Two bells toll.
I know I post alot of things about pain and hurt and loss. But I look at the world around me, and its goddamn breathtaking.
I write because i must. When words are written, they cannot be unwritten. When words are said, they cannot be unsaid.
I don't know..I just don't know..whether I should try to be more or so, to like every human in the midst of a forest, jungles filled witgh rain..
People talk about pain, like it's tangible, like you can grab hold of it. Surely then it would be manageable. I often wondered what life without pain would be, life without loss, heartache and hurt...
Ink on a canvas, some twisted soul's art. Our lives crafted on the whims of a being with no heart. It lets us love others, and then takes them away, It crafts all our actions; dawn till dusk every...
My heart, my mind, my meaning. What purpose in a fathomless land. Existing, being, living. Who and what defines that place in which I stand. Am I merely existing, born to die. I, I, I.
The collaboration with @HingAling24 and moi.
A collaboration with @sammielee46 and moi.
I like to write from different angles. Differing angers, Differ in standards.
You say a picture is worth a thousand words.
Do you derive hope from failure. Do you derive joy from pain. Do you derive love from hatred. Do you derive loss from gain. Do you see life as a mystery. Do you see life as a maze.
The world contracting. No; more imploding. Not just the world but the universe; existence.
Where do you run to, When you don't know where you are. When do you stop. Will you ever know how far. How can I move forward, When I keep pulling back. What if I can't let go.
I write this with honesty and with a head full those mad coffee thoughts which were promised to you but never came although if it's all the same I'd like to give them to you now on this page which...
My soul, unchained Cast off in a wind of change, Minutia particles of memory, Yesterdays whims, Tomorrows dreams, todays troubles; processed, mixed up, Turned inside out outside in, Can we start...
So, Does any body know whom Hypatia is.
Why do we value human life. Some people want to die. Beg to die. Why don't we let them die. Why do we try to save them. Why do we encourage them to cope with their misery.