in life, you can only follow your gut that much. you trust in it that you will find a way, you will get there. you don't know what you don't know but you do your best to set that aside. you do your best to follow your heart.
i hate this. hearts are biased, blind and obstinate. we try to accommodate it, and it cries so much that it is the best choice we can make, and i agree, but surely there could be some other way that doesn't strip me away my knees, brush away my cheeks, holding me out to dry in the blistering wind.
in any case, the roller coaster has been amazing, i live a full life. too many emotions that i appreciate so much, too many moments of pure joy. tell me what else to do. if i die following my heart, so be it. this ride is long, and i don't feel spent, for renewal is rudimentary. and i pray this be so time and time again.
one only had to make a choice to be fair. choices in our lives seldom require us to dictate what's right or what's wrong. when they do, its subtlely implied yet that's how we mess up when we so fearlessly indulge ourselves in spite. in the end, that's probably how we endure anyways. i wish sometimes that life could be right or wrong, it makes things very simple, endurable. however, that's not what we can choose. injustices abound we will only feel unbearable pain when we are padfooting and making choices and, perhaps, right and wrong no longer matter. what difference does it make to be right? the question asked quite simply was "was it worthed it to protect what's right when there's nothing left?"
sharing oneself with the world is not fulfilling as once was. all the words converge into stories and yet stories feel biased in a rudimentary construct. convoluted noises unpublished remains popular with one's heart. perhaps it is another day, another person to flesh out the intricacies of a passing moment. perhaps one will return to his roots and hope for the best.
I cant wait for a free bird to maybe fly back, Not going to pretend that its okay, To see you soaring in my silence, Nor is clipping your wings my wish; You are happy in many things, I trust in you to make it good Take care with a heavy heart.
reserved only for our loved ones, including that spunky lass from the club.
philosophies can wait. reserved only for times of utter boredom and narcissism.
love can wait. reserved only for the ones who get it.
is it not a coincidence that all your misfortunes turn out to make you a better person, someone with skills others can only dream of. to care, to empathise, to love, to cherish, to protect. to live in the moment, not fiscally, but in good faith and passion.
you remind me not of a feeling to love, but an impulse to search and destroy your every fibre and trickery. you encompass everything that i hate, a pompous ideal with a severe detachment from reality. you think you are so clever, with your sleight of hand and crazy eyes. you are in my.. ha.. discretion and i will not stop till you are utterly broken. on the edge of your insanity. crying for reprieve to the walls that hear nothing. i will not make you feel empowered, for you do not deserve anything. or anyone. for what you will do. for what path i am sure you will not deviate from. how do i know? well.. its just a hunch. but a clever hunch. speak no further. for this reality is what we have got left, there is nothing else.
you have smothered me with injuries and deceit, a thunderous presence in your gaze washed me inside the agony of your mental pyramid. choices made are the sum of who we are, not what we can achieve. you have the buck in your hand to do the right thing. there are no lessons to learn, nor winning or losing to despair over. therein lies only red and blue; only sweet or salty; only smarties or m&ms. a legacy you leave behind when its all over. the knife in your hand gleams with excitement, thirsting for the blood to be spilled from my heart. i close my eyes to smell the lingering sorrows and joys we had. love is but an immeasurable barometer.
alas, it was his turn, to be strapped to a chair, eyes wide open and in them i saw sheer panic; an emotion, something absent from the belligerent beast for a long time. the laws of the land had protected people like him from enduring the proper demise they so endearingly deserve, but not in that moment. not when i held the key to his release. it must be said that he practically strapped himself to the chair and threw the key at my feet by staying alive, but i knew better than to let him wreck havoc in the civilised world.
the night was nigh, in it was organised madness in the city. people had paid over the odds for a movie night with tramps,and some sang in the streets along to the latest overbearing pop songs. in bars and pubs, the clinking of glasses were only overwhelmed by the sound of shattering bottles and shouts of way-over-their-heads teenagers. young zipsters without the scars and lessons of their immediate, slightly older and increasingly subservient ne'er do wells. nonetheles...