Getaway; to walk a little further.

Taking flight with a shattered heart.

Both your individual pursuits of happiness would have saved us from your silent misery.

I conclude.

She cried.

That front at the dining table crumbled. So vulnerable she became as she listened to herself speak.

Those narrative words as if it weren't her story. Conflicting emotions of past trauma to present shards of truth.

The whole shredded picture finally falling into frame.

You are still alive.

It was a good talk...

I understand that I cannot will you to understand certain things now but I believe in time when you meet a similar situation you will truly comprehend the entanglement and struggle.

It's true that feelings are true/real for the moment. Likewise moments will change. All things will pass. We are hostage to time, in the dilemma to live in the moment and yet struggle to how we will live/be in the future.

We are only human.

Walking on Air

Today, is another day. But the exhaustion doesn't seem to wear off from all my yesterday's.

I'm glad that she came over last night, it's like our little therapy. Unloading all the heaviness in life for just a bit.

Laughing off the hurtful parts with silly comparisons to make things matter less than it really should.

She's caught in a sinking ship.
I am caught in spider webs.

Caught. We are unable to hit the ground like we should to feel the immediate-intense impact.

Hanging in mid-air; waiting.

Walking on air.

It was cold and empty. No body in that household understood the definition of family. The furnitures portrayed each's demolition, bruises, isolation and escape.

The hole in the door. The near death strangulation on the day bed. The break down at the kitchen cabinet. The slammed doors.

Ghosts.

Wake up.

It is time.

Like a spell. That moment is no longer. Until the next occurrence.

Time could fade out whimsical colours and decadence.

All that's left is a sketch.

I like to believe that there many Em & Dex characters all around the world and that we are just one of them. Caught in this inter-lapse of time, cross junctions of living. The years will keep rolling by, till we have accomplished what we think we ought to, and when the lights around us starts to dim... we know. It is time. So come back for me.

煎熬

I never thought a mandarin song could bring tears to my eyes as I was singing it out loud in public for the first time.

I have been on the run refusing to clear up the dust that have settled.

Everything frozen in ruin as I turned my back and fled the crime scene.

Shadows that I have brushed away into the far depths of my memory.

It was your ghost that I had avoided all along.

But today. I finally let go.

I detest the life here. Because I know what it is to come.

It is exhausting.

It feels like just a shutter would cause an impending destruction of the universe. Too quiet things are. Do you have a trump card to save your soul?

What is your worth. This question resonates.

A flutter of a butterfly brought forth such a wrath.

Time moved. So did I.

A different frame and perspective. Many yesterday's have passed and I am still looking forward to all my tomorrow's. Where we were planted to begin didn't allow any us a say. But where we end is ours to orchestrate.

My guitar still lies silently near me. Four walls have changed.

We knew. The intensity in the atmosphere.
Pardon my cowardice.

I have lost both written words in mind and paper.

Fatal frames.

I strip myself bare as I peal off these worldly titles. I have lost my mind.

That box you so often described... I've walked out yet so very naked.

I have stopped writing for quite some time now.

Some things... have changed.

Nothing stays the same.

I'll be back soon.

Bleeding into words to feel less of what you should

The circle of things and how we are tossed is inescapable despite our obvious roles

Closed doors and experimental accidents are foreplays leading towards the final act

How do I just walk away you questioned? Without a heart my dear.

So thank the past who have made destruction potent enough to cast a miserable state of a human to greet you.

My sleeves wipes your tears while I breathe my sorry's.

Don't make promises. Don't hold hostages.

You can't hold a heart from an empty chest.

I can't stay.

It’s lonesome through these glass doors.

You could scream all day and the obscurity does not fade.

Suicide is just a prerogative.

Why are you still here? Entangled flesh infused cryptic.

Haven’t you tried every detrimental activity within your accessibility?

You think you need aid but your conviction is unresolved.

Maybe you have been given the wrong prescription of reasoning so quit.

The taste of ash within the throat; cold bitter aftertaste.

Akin childhood memories; Haze of the forgotten.
As innocents we couldn't articulate the trauma that was imposed.

The revelation of scars never fades hides or resolve.

They run deep with uneven edges, penetrating every fortress, facade and flesh.

It gnaws mercilessly at the back of your head, like a bullet ingrained in your brains; No sympathy or empathy.

So how do you begin to heal when you have evaded?

Invalid.

Seeing doesn't help. Wanting is pointless.What you withhold keeps an interest high. Treat them bad to treat yourself right. Again another inverse relation.

So laying in a paid bed is no different; Just restricted by time. The four walls denies the hands of time to be evident. There is no light and you could be devoured into this non-existent vacuum. If limbo has to feel. It feels like this. What were you playing for? What were you paying for? One month from now makes no difference does it?

Hemorrhage in memory is salvation. As you forget you are remembered; Another wishful thinking for things to balance themselves out this way.

You felt the fabrics as you ran your fingers through tangible memories. This too feels familiar. One year ago on this same day and time, did you ever foresee your life to turn out this way. Overlapping time. Overlapping death all over again. You can feel the end as backward looking has never been this repeatedly cruel.

You still see shadows in your everyday's and the little detailed reminders in strangers you pass. Held back by an invincible thread. Even now. Even so.

You fought but chose a wrong that will live and be paid for the rest of eternity.

Downward spiral.

Past consecutive head-on collision.
How much of what you thought and felt doesn't stand the test of time when you encounter them again.
Strange isn't it. 
How does forever last in this ever changing world which is highly dependent on change to be a constant and relevance?
Those unchosen. 
To where we are in life. 
Such a significant gap and relief.
Some things are meant.
Not to happen.

Cold surgical room. Mavis. Some paths are crossed once. Till the next threads align. 

Strangers in a room exchanging topics of the everyday. I was to feel no pain; on the contrary part of me was removed and deceased. 

Through the minor gap I gazed in her direction letting the tears stream. She read my pulse and knew I was out of breath. Nothing but the smell of blood and scrapping flesh. Going under the knife was saying goodbye. 

My body was an experiment. 

I hope to see you again to tell you how much that meant.