Slow

Everything buzzes in your head. You can't just turn everything off. It's not that easy and let's face it, absolute silence is boring.

But it goes without saying it is one of those ideas that simply catch my attention easily.

It wasn't too hard to understand the psychology of it all. It wasn't hard to set most things into an automatic response. It wasn't hard to just turn down the volume on everything once you have enough awareness of the source.

I remember feeling heavy, sluggish, slow. Everything became so mechanical, so manual. Ideas stop coming to you when you stop bothering to process them.

In, automated response, out. That was all to it. And it was boring. It was repetitive work. It was in every and all ways, a robot. And that is exactly why it was dangerous.

I remember the ideas I had at the time. The thought processes that I had. But I know it wasn't completely silent, it couldn't be. Not at such a short time at least. But knowing myself and my nature, I let the volume rise again.

It is fun to do what I do. But at the end of the day, I sure ain't going to do something as pointless as that again.

Alone

I loathe being idle. Being lazy, sure. Idle, no. When I am alone, I keep my head down, concentrating into work, random time wasting activities, sink into a fantasy world, but never ever idle.

More often than not these days, I am alone. And when you're alone and idle at the same time, they start creeping in. They crawl out from the recess of your mind and start to claw against the insides of your skull. If you were to look underneath it, I'm sure you'll find the scratch marks.

And so I preoccupy myself. Overwhelmingly, I will always be engaged in something, be it pointless or helpful. Keep the senses busy. Can't spare too much mental capacity if your senses are bombarded.

Of course I can't keep this up forever. Who can? One needs to sleep after all. Oh how I loathe having to sleep. Having to keep your mind clear of thoughts just enough to sleep without having them crawl out is not impossible. Just so incredibly hard.

I toss and turn at night because I can't fall asleep. I can't keep my head quiet. It's all voluntary of course. To let it quiet down without arming myself to the teeth is just madness. Though all things considered, it never helps now does it?

The moment your defences go down, it floods over. It drowns out everything. It almost bleeds its way out of your head. Its almost, poetic, the way it pulls you down into itself. Almost like art. Almost like dying.

Sleep is the only time I ever have a risk of meeting the caged things that sharpen their nails while in wait. Best to tire out the body until sleep is almost instant. They can't come out if they don't have the time to do so see?

I don't hate loneliness. Sometimes the company that is yourself is a good thing. Sometimes, just sometimes, you just want to be alone. To reflect. To think. To process. But other times, loneliness is like the food the creatures absolutely love.

It's not impossible to feel lonely in a crowd. It's not impossible to feel lonely with a friend. It's definitely not impossible to feel lonely even with those you are familiar with.

I don't think I live on an island. Nor do I think I'm stuck in a well. Perhaps the best metaphor would be to be inside a bubble? Even with others, no one penetrates the bubble. No one really gets through. Converse, participate, work, it all is possible. But the only company I have in that bubble is myself.

What do you call this bubble really? I mean really, what is this bubble? Is it personal space? Is it the false self I show to others? Is it my active process of not letting anyone dig into my head? What the hell is this bubble that stops me from connecting to people? I'm not even sure if its made by myself, or just a product of my nature.

Admittedly I am terrified. Terrified of tearing away this bubble. Terrified to let someone into my head. Terrified that if someone has the key to it all, they would take what that is me and leave. They say we stopped checking for monsters under our bed because we realized they were inside of us. Maybe I'm also just terrified that if someone comes in, they would run away at the sight of it.

It takes courage to break the bubble at all. It takes courage to be so vulnerable, so open to attack. It take courage to be at risk of being hurt from falling down, of not being protected from the dangers of everything else. It takes courage to even filter the things that enter. Everything so carefully examined, observed, before I can even allow it to worm its way in slowly. It takes courage to have someone else in here with me, courage that I don't have.

But I can't deny that I would very much like not to be alone.

Burst

The bleeding starts instantly. It's never like the movies is it. Neither is it depicted that a gun wound would hurt like all hell usually.

The chase is beautiful. Sure, when the blood gets pumping everything flows out a little quicker. There is time, there is time.

The target is all that matters. As long as you ain't dead when you arrive, you will survive in the long run.

Feet, don't give up on me. I'm so close, so close. I might not have enough blood to last me but I surely have enough adrenalin.

Last sprint, last sprint. I'm almost there, almost there..

State

Sometimes it is about indifference. I think not about other things. Everything seen with a 'so what?' attitude, actively pushing away all forms of care towards that event, object or whatnot. Apathy.

Sometimes it is about neutrality. I would neither defend nor oppose both side. Watch from the sidelines, moderate things if need be, but remain uninvolved as a whole. I have no problem with pointing out the need of a discussion, but I wouldn't join in.

Sometimes it is about doublethink. I would argue both to and for both sides of the discussion. Everything has its pros and cons, and for me at least, it is always better to know than to now know both sides of it all.

Sometimes it is about objectivity. To consider all points without bias and preconceptions, making a decision that is solid. I would have problems at times of course, no one is absolutely non-biased after all.

And yet at the end of the day, it is within human nature to be subjective. Damn.

Happiness

Much too often I try to see things from more than one point of view. To walk in another's shoe for a mile inside my head. To think how another would think if they were a little more uptight, relaxed, irritable, mellow and so on.

I would think it has become a part of me to consider the views of others most of the time. To make decisions that gives the least amount of displeasure to others.

But it doesn't mean I have to appease everyone of course. I am still living for myself and in that regard, I will always think of my survivability. From this stemmed my apathetic nature I believe.

Cognitive dissonance. That's what you get when you care too much about everything and not care too much about everything at the same time. While I wont deny I like both of it for its merits, the option to just 'get both of it' isn't exactly the brightest I would believe. Not when prioritizing is possible at least.

I don't find my way of thinking weird or even abnormal. It's very average really. I am the priority to myself. I am capable of altruistic behaviour but in the end, my priority is to myself. Are we not of such a thinking manner?

I can never understand living for someone or something. I don't understand living for the sake of god, your parents or even a loved one. I just don't. I can conceive of the highest rank another can gain from me is to live With them, but never for them. As far as the pyramid of power goes, there is nothing at the highest position that caries the value of infallibility. I am second, and I can conceive of myself and others being wrong.

I can admit I have a fear for the unknown. It is this fear that drives me so hard to gain control about myself as much as possible. It is this fear that has pushed myself away from many things one can do in life. I can admit I am a coward.

Control, to me at least, is my sedation. It is my limit. It keeps me in check. My emotions can cause me to behave in ways I know not when they are tested, and so I learn control. It keeps me from boiling over and ripping off someone's throat. It stops me making irrational decisions. It stops me harming myself and those around me.

But often is it not the case whereby emotions are the hardest thing one can control? This, I would think, is another reason of my apathetic nature.

You see, I don't remember being born apathetic. I have always been a little sensitive. Easy to respond to what others have to say about me. I guess I still am. But at one point, I realize that what people can say to me hurts, and it can hurt very badly. Emotions are hard to deal with. It's hard to rationalize certain feelings away sometimes. So at one point, I guess I just learned to at least try and stop caring. Something that you do not care about can't affect you after all.

And yet, it never works that easily does it? Because I still care, and it all still affects me, I just tell myself it doesn't. Because not everyone speaks the way I do. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. But people lie. People exaggerate. People hurt me. And they do it without knowing it. But eventually, like most things, I learn. I learn that it is very much alright to let it affect me for that one instant before apathy kicks in. Emotion will always be faster than logic. It is a biological limitation. No point wallowing about it. Just keep working on not caring. Don't let the little things bother you.

I used to not think much about disappointment. I wouldn't mind asking for things knowing the answer is likely a 'no'. I would ask anyway. There is always a chance right? But at some point, you just learn to stop trying so hard. In the case of disappointment, I'm alright in fearing it, but I am mostly just tired. I'm tired for trying to get things to go my way. I'm tired of asking for things I will never get. I'm tired of trying so hard. I don't have many disappointments in life, simply because I don't try to do anything anymore. To realize this when I was a child was for me to grow up seeing motivation as a queue to give up.

I stopped trying to be happy. Failure in trying to be happy makes a person sad. To stop trying is to stop getting sad. In a way, to stop risking is to stop getting failure. I remember feeling numb. I still remember it. The funny thing about life is that when you have nothing to live or die for anymore, everything starts feeling plastic. Short term goals and self preservation can always provide for enough reason to live, but it doesn't feel the same. Not the same as spending your life looking for happiness, or even experiencing it. Maybe I'm just disappointed too easily.

When you stop trying to be happy, your life starts losing its meaning. The end result is often feeling negative anyway. Once upon a time I wondered, is this the reason why man has always tried so hard to attain happiness? Is it just to fill in the gap in their lives that otherwise would just be a spiral of sadness? I don't see the meaning. Not really.

But I can understand the idea of joy. I can understand the idea of being content. I can conceive of a possibility of enjoying myself, being content, even happy. That in itself is enough to keep me away from suicide, legal issues aside of course. But to be able to conceive of such a thing is to be disappointed to not be having it. Cognitive dissonance is a pain.

It is said that happiness is not something that comes to you, you have to search for it. And it makes sense to me. If you want something, get it. No point sitting about waiting for it to fall onto your lap. But it could be that my thought process has been the way its been for so long that I cannot conceive of what makes me happy anymore. What do I enjoy? What makes me content? What brings me happiness? Every idea that I can think of immediately has a flaw that would make me feel something negative. I literally cannot conceive of something that can make me genuinely happy.

I don't get truly happy very often. I find it hard to recall of many incidents of being happy at all. There are many reasons to be happy, many ways to achieve it, but I simply cannot think of any specific thing that applies to myself.

It is said that the idea of being happy only once you get something is fundamentally flawed. Considering the greed in human nature, I feel inclined to agree. Getting something would only make you want more and more and more and eventually you feel more disappointment than happiness. Happiness is not materialistic, and it makes sense.

I can understand the idea behind it, I can conceive of things that seem to work with the average human being, but I can't seem to find anything that would work for me. Perhaps it is the nature of myself from my past experience, but when I fail to find something for quite a while, I stop trying. I don't recall making a conscious decision about it. I just noticed that at one point, I'm not really trying anymore.

Happiness is like an unattainable goal for me at this point. I no longer know what can truly make me happy anymore. I stopped looking the day I noticed I didn't know what I was looking for.

Hunger

Cause when I wake up it's never the right time. Not for most things and definitely not for this.

It's really not the odd hours that matter, but the state of mind itself. Often it is the case whereby one never notes its existence until things begin to waste. Funny how things are always noticed too late.

Is it because the conscious mind fails to process the idea of sleep? Is it because of the routines one has from waking up onwards?

But as the day goes on it starts to affect you. It wears you down, starts poking into your head, your thought process, your ideas. It feeds on yourself and pushes you to do something about it.

Determined souls would will it away. Yet the ones who fall are often times the ones who survive. Is this pride?

Self preservation can always be suppressed, even completely pushed away by higher brain function. Is it strange to want to go beyond the norm at times?

The human body functions too much assuming the case of a primitive world. Lifestyle changes. Technology changes. Society changes.

So spare some time and indulge in your body's request. You can't stop eating forever.

Jealousy

In an instant I can feel my blood boil beyond the point of evaporation.

What? Why? When it Does occur to me, rational thought still escapes me. It is beyond understanding that I would process the idea of it in such a way.

To notice that which is there once someone has pointed it out is not unique, not uncommon. And yet it grounds me up like coffee beans that it is so.

It's never about how you want to feel, but the thoughts of it all. Calm thoughts. Calm thoughts.

Vanilla ice cream that licks my belly would still fail to bring down my burning blood. I feel so wound up I could break.

Many a case I would rely on my memories to fade, but one has a feeling this would stay for a little while more.

Obsession

They come to me much like a sudden spark one sees when knocking two metal objects together. Not impossible, just improbable.

I can't explain where the fuel for it comes from, I never can. But it drives me mad with involuntary repetitive thoughts. My brain almost goes into a loop, again and again and again.

My sanity is questioned to and by myself. Is this too strange a thing?

I would crawl through mountains of paper to find that one scribble.

I would travel halfway around the world the find that one thing.

I would let my fingers bleed before I would pause to think about the repercussions.

And when it all ends, when it all reaches a state where everything stops spinning, everything reaches a state of calm.

Metaphorical wind that rushes past my metaphorical hair and metaphorical body, I fall through a metaphorical sky and it all fades away.

Theater

I am the audience, director and actor of this world. Let us do a play.

I think little of any theme that is too central. Far too much attention has been given to classifications than to the quality of work. A play need not limit itself in such a way.

I find it not a pity only I would be able to enjoy this. Some things in life simply cannot be shared no matter how you want to. No one is to blame.

Trampolines and swinging things, breathing fire from the mouth of man. Water tanks and people cheering. Yet here I am alone, the one and only audience.

A magic trick! I sure hope it serves to please. Not many things I can do but I can surely try. At least this trick, I know, is far superior that those shown before.

Tales of tragedy and pain and lust. Stories of betrayal, guilt and war. Sparks fly.

I am the audience, director and actor of this world. Let us do a play.

One

Sometimes I plug myself into the world simply because I want to hear white noise.

The hustle and bustle of the traffic and people that walk by. I would gladly sit in a mall for hours on end just to watch. Beats paying for a movie.

As the earth rotates to leave the sun, I would watch as the majority of people are trying to commute home. The food stalls open in convenient corners, strategically enticing people.

Because I rather observe people that to speak with them, it would still mean I have to eject myself into society to make it possible. Such hassle is the world in its current state.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I was omnipresent. How beautiful do you think the world would be if you could see it all at once?

Billions of people interacting with one another, one giant organism. Earth. We would see it as it is if we could see it all.

Fade

Because if I refuse to admit it and I refuse to acknowledge it, it almost doesn't exist.

The little piece of sanity inside is trying oh so very hard to slip between the cracks of my skull and trying to escape. Such bad behaviour. Does it not know I need it now?

My moods take a roller coaster ride and decide to throw me off my usual balance. Sure they have learned to avoid showing too much a build up but still, one can't deny it is unpleasant to flow through four different moods within the space of a few hours.

It feels like I'm being shrunk sometimes. And if I shrink enough, I might just be small enough to not be seen.

And if people don't see me, know me, remember me, my existence is not acknowledged, and I won't exist.

Memories fade to black and is filled instead with fantasies. I am clearly not a blank slate but at this rate, I might as well be.

When we have all gone senile and the crimson red within me stops flowing, will I be remembered at all by generations to come? Will I be forgotten?

A great sea of people can easily drown one another. Fading into the background, I almost feel like I'm dissolving.

Whisper in my ears and tell me, what am I to you?

Fairytale

The knights that point me to the right paths were just empty suits of armor. I know it. I look inside and they are hollow.

Everything is methodically fabricated, every scenario well manufactured. This world was hand made to fit.

A tragedy it seems has come, though it remains within my predictions. In great peril I would be in to be saved, or perhaps into a deep sleep, awaiting a kiss?

They often don't speak of the happily ever afters. Is it really so hard to conceive of things that would make one happy forever?

To me, at least, they are. Only in such a place can it flow so easily into existence.

So please don't wake up. I don't want this fairytale to end.

Blood

I want to paint the world with your blood, but I can't. So stay still and let me collect it all.

I would keep your blood in transparent jars and line them up against the holes in the walls. How pretty it would be when the sunlight shines through and lights the room.

Please don't think you would have to stay alive forever for this. Once I get enough I am sure to stop, and you would free to go. But I won't pretend like I know my own limits. Your blood is far too sweet for me to leave well alone.

I would like to think I have yet to descend into madness, not yet at least. My thoughts are mostly rational and motives remain clear. It isn't irrational I would think, to want your blood instead of organs, as it is most likely to regenerate without harming yourself.

Please stop begging for death. I would very much prefer you alive. The sound of your beating heart is like the sweet melody of angel's song.

I admit my motives are narcissistic, but please, stay alive a little longer.

Fins

Scribbles and scrawls, can't you tell me what it means? Words and arrows and names. What is your story?

Being happy for another is not hard to do. Empathy is often already built-in for the most of us. But do you think it's possible to feel happiness and sadness at the same time? I can.

Shaved things of a creature once alive, mix them together and tell me if you would eat it. Whats done is done, though it still means that I can feel its despair.

Would you run if you knew your legs would shatter? Would you swim if you know you would drown? I would.

At the end of the day, it's really what you do about things that matter.

Ache

With every heartbeat it feels like it is being choked. If there was an occasion a human heart needs to be held by a pair of hands, I'm almost certain this is how it would feel like.

It almost feels like a pair of hands are squeezing down on it every time I think and at times, it literally hurts. And when it hurts, it hurts very badly.

The good and bad about distractions is that they work, right up until they don't. Forced to see what is there when the clouds of dust has settled is disturbing, uncomfortable, hurtful.

If I had to think of reasons why I feel this pressure there is certainly more than one that comes to mind. But knowing the problem doesn't mean you can solve it, not all the time.

Yet at the end of the day if I were to find ways to push it away I would only regress. So do I walk towards a wall in hopes of going through or do I step back into the cold room that is the only sanity I know?

Flow

Bits of garbage every now and then, once accumulated, still has an affect. Care for a little while and take notice. The calm of it all is not where you need to be.

A leisurely stroll is all you would need, it isn't much. Not too much to ask for I'm sure?

Poke at them. Pick them up. Pull them apart. Clean it all away.

Everything would take time to flow but there is surely enough time to get yourself back onto the starting point. All you have to do is run.

And then just let it all flow and flow. You know as well as I that this is enjoyable. So scream not in fear but in delight. We're going for a ride.

Drown

The warmth of what seems like a blanket around me. Fills me with just enough comfort to close my eyes and just sink into it. I am surrounded by it. So fluid, so soft, so, peaceful.

If you stayed long enough, you could see the scratches on my well polished thoughts. I am not unaware. I cannot be blamed for the lack of proper polishing tools.

The truth does not ever sting. It does not even so much as pinch you. The truth remains only as a fact, just sitting there, waiting to be heard, to be entertained.

If I will away the pain that chokes on my lungs, would it change the truth of the matter? I know I am willing, yet as it enters me, I feel like fabric is pushing itself past my nostrils. I feel so violated.

The thing about most games involving a partner is that it is likely to be troubling for one who is antisocial. It would not be considered silly, only troublesome. I know I have to do what I dislike, and so I do.

If instruments could be my friend, an orchestra has many a time shown me that they would not be happy. In my hands, they would sooner be played by dust than not. Restraint is my mercy.

The pleasure of just slipping away. It hooks onto you until you decide to just let it take you completely. It is beautiful. Just so beautiful.

If I could invite just one person to join me leave, who would it be? We come to this world alone and it is the same way we leave. Would it not be great if just one other could join you? The blankets wrap me inside and out. Everything fades fades fades.

Invited

The stars tonight are most definitely more than the norm. It has been a while since I could enjoy such a sight. I don't often celebrate but for such an occasion, it is really hard not to.

Your presence itself draws me in in a way that is much like trying to avoid watching a disaster unfolding. So irresistibly seductive. There is little that I would not help you with as long as you just asked.

Many a story we have shared tonight, of kings and slaves, trains and tracks, trees and fruits and firewood. Of deserts spanning far beyond the eyes could see. If there is a place much like what we have been speaking of, I would gladly join you on your journey.

Though I may not be much of a man of hard liquor, I seem to have found myself much enjoying single-malt whiskeys tonight. Taking only 2 shot within the space of an hour, it was no surprise I felt warm though still fairly lucid.

It was hard to reject a home invitation from a beauty such as yourself, though what was less than expected is your well categorically arranged dolls. Though many would have their attention drawn to the dolls themselves, there was most definitely a pattern of arrangement that is subtle, as well as complicated. If I had not placed much concentration I would have missed it for sure.

Starry skies and windy nights. Perfection. For a moment I was surprised that you have star gazing interests but your true reasons was more amusing than not. I won't deny my interest for the darker side of the world is not lacking.

Despite the silence and having only tea to keep me company, one can't deny that once you look past the dullness of the room, the limited stimuli that is left stands out vividly. The mild glow of everything else brings a sort of satisfaction that I can't seem to explain. It feels almost like living in an art piece.

I find some sadness in the fact that it was hard for you to create connections with others. I'm not one to speak of course but it affects me in a very deep sense. Almost like a longing to pull her into a blanket of my concern. I may not have much reasons to celebrate or even leave my home, but another visit would be very much considered.

Seasoned

Slither your way into the abscess of my mind. I can feel it pulsing like a heartbeat from the great beyond.

If you slap me the in the face, I would punch you left right and center. Mercy is too much for the weak. I prefer to return the favour with interest.

Do you really need to ask my name? I am as insignificant to you as you are to me. Forget that which is pointless. Focus. Concentrate.

Fly across the skies and peek down below. Do you see the people crying themselves to sleep? Are you one of them? Don't lie to me.

If you ever asked me what I would do to you if I could do anything without consequence, I would tear you to pieces and eat you for breakfast lunch and dinner. Do try to temp me. All I need is that one chance to snap.

There is absolutely no reason to fear one who is as much of a cowards as myself. The sun would sooner freeze over than for me to have gained the courage to move at all.

Moss on a stone is only relevant if you are collecting moss. It is otherwise trivial. Leave it and get back to work.

To do things one thing at a time is a given in a task as demanding as this. But if you must, it is very much alright to multitask, so long as your efficiency is unaffected. If it does, it becomes my problem, and how I fix my problems is often unkind.

Never complain to me about your headaches, for they are good for you. Compliment them. Embrace them. Learn to accept them into your life.

Jump jump jump jump jump. Go from one place to another, and you will eventually find a place most suitable to call your home.

The human mind often reminds me of the innards of a creature. So very often processing. So very often at work.

I would think that once upon a time I would like to fly. I know now that I can't.

My Sanity

Green grass once grew in these places. A wonderful meadow. A beautiful sky.

Everything reeks these days. The putrid smell that finds its way into your nostrils despite efforts to avoid it is most vexing. The grass, gone, leaving dirt and filth. The sky is black, lightning and thunder is the only weather ever forecasted.

This place used to be a place of serenity. It used to have a calm air about it that simply soothes the savage beast within. Everything about its beauty is in the past.

I used to think, if I had a potion to let me dream forever I would. But dreams turned to nightmares and nightmares were eventually all I had. It never really is about receiving what you wish for is it? Only ever receiving what you wished you would never have.

Take my hand and walk with me, even if we were to part ways eventually, everything else is unimportant, so please, please walk with me.

And for a while the grass grew, the clouds fade, and for the first time in a very long time, the sun shined onto my face, kissing my cheeks, its warmth radiated to the very core of my soul. Even for a while, bliss feels like eternity.

The fork on the road ahead looks menacing, unforgiving, even cruel. Please understand that I hold tightly onto your hands because I don't really want to let go, even though I know I have to. Please don't hate me for using you, despite your willingness to be used. Please please don't hate me.

Walking alone, I didn't look back. I didn't want to. I couldn't. Cause it hurts as it is. To see what could have been would hurt me more. I'm tired of being hurt. I'm tired of the pain I feel. It's so common it feels almost like a part of me, and I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

I can almost hear it as the madness descends. The sky is filled with thunder and lightning. Each strike throws up the carcasses that make the ground. Each and everyone of them stink more than the filth before. If I had anything in me I would throw up again.

In the end, I really can't stop myself from falling into my abyss of misery. Everything hurts. But sometimes, I can hear people speaking to me from the other side. I want to call out to them, I do, but my voice never comes out, not anymore.

Is it sad to think that I have learned to sit still in my own little world? Do you pity me? Please don't. If you can't stand to see me as I am, please don't so much as look at me. I don't need your pity, and I surely don't care for your disgust.

There is beauty in anything if you stare at it long enough. Up on my mountain of rotten things, I have learned to see the beauty in the wreckage. Just leave me here. I don't need your saving, not anymore.

Sugar Glass

Powdered glass set on a plate set on a table set in front of me. How sweet it seems as it reminds me of sugar.

Does it disturb you that so much blood can come out from an orifice? I almost feel full from my own blood alone.

My arms still hurts more than my mouth and tongue. And they said the tongue was the most sensitive organ.

I'm sure water would sting, but alcohol? Really?

I won't deny my memory for things of the past remain as fuzzy as ever. I simply do not bother to recall things as much as I used to anymore.

Do you remember the empty conversations we always had? We used to think the days would never end.

I find it pretty to think that if I speak now, a pool of blood would soon form on the floor. Though I think, you almost enjoy cleaning up after me at this point.

I don't think I'd die yet. Not so soon, not now.

But if I ever do, please don't miss me. We'd meet soon after I'm sure.

Run

Run run run run run run. Forget the little things. Let it not bother you. Distractions will be the death of you, just keep running running running.
Everything is trivial, irrelevant, pointless. As long as you can run, you can survive. Your feet is made for you to run run run run run.

Don't ask why. Don't think about what was and what could be. Don't wonder what it is you dread. Just run.

It is not the purpose of life to guide. Its purpose is only itself, so keep running. Just keep running.

The higher you fly, the harder you fall. Just stay on the ground and run run run run run.

If people try to stop you ignore them. If people ask why is it you run, tell them you have to. If people question your sanity, tell them running is the only way you stay sane.

Watch them all as they fall in line, so predictable, so boring. But not you. You run. And you keep on running.

If there ever comes a day you feet breaks beneath you, don't cry. Your sanity may slip away, but know that if it does, someone else will receive it. And I will once again tell them to run run run run run.

Tea Party

Oh how sweet the taste of sin upon my lips. Stay a while and join me. Sit down, chat for a while. The night is still young.

One two tree four five six seven. How on earth did a plant get into my list of numbers? I smell firewood. Help me with this.

I want to breath helium and laugh to death with a funny voice. Join me. I have more than enough helium. We could seal off a room and just laugh our lives away.

Let's take a train to a land where angels weep and devils cry. Where the sun never sets and the moon smiles upon us. Where the desert sand drowns our toes like a fuzzy carpet. Where the air is thick with fumes of volcanic gases. Where plants are only seen to be dead or dying. Let's join our hands and walk down the road of time and look for the fruit which bears only once a hundred years. If it isn't there, let us wait together under its tree, hand in hand, head against head. shoulder against shoulder. We could sleep until its flowers bloom and bears its fruit once more.

Are you enjoying your drink? It would be a shame if it is not to your tastes. Would you like to have something else? What about some peanuts? You shouldn't be so silent. Let us retire to my home. You can meet the other inhabitants. We could have some tea. It would do you some good.

Do you not like its porcelain skin? Its laces, its hair? Beautiful are they not? How graceful the skill that is required to carve such an elegant character.

I know the balcony is dull. But if you look through a telescope, you can see the poor sods jumping to their deaths every now and then. I got this place specifically for this reason. Everything else, I'm sure you've notice, is as dull as can be.

Sorry for the lack of sugar. I stand by principle to never have sugar in my tea.

Thank you for appreciating the joy of silence. It greatly appeals to me to have silence as company once in a while.

Smile for me once more before you leave. Do tell if you are visiting again. It would be nice to see a face I have once seen before.