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.

In the dark.

I was holding her in my arms, whilst covering my mouth not to make a sound.

Fear. Fresh and gripping. Paralyzed.

I don't know who she was but I wanted to conceal her from those demons.

My only defense was the pistol in my jacket. Do I take their lives or ours?

We ran multiple floors and into a black hole.

Yet our breaths sold us away.

We were exposed and the execution flashed...
I was hauled into reality.

Who are you?

Come back.

Counting down stops through diminishing lights. 
Time is a beautiful slow dance, it is nature's revelation of our soul. 
What will be your last thoughts if your life is coming to an end via a public announcement system?
We are flames waiting to be extinguished. When more are gathered we become an inferno. 
Its been almost a year I'm glad your still here my self invented catalyst. 
Remembrance is crucial to know that we are alive.
Catalyst; First exposure and taste to the other side. 
Even if I had one shot to rewind, I would had re enact the same way down that spiral.
That alluring spin off. 

There are many stories trapped in another reality; highly imaginative, vibrant and out of control. Scenes that you don’t remember come alive after you come face to face with them again. We seem to be living them when we finally ride a high and how often does that happens? They say if you can't avoid it, yield to it, but how far does that takes you?

That last conversation had evoked quite a number of emotions that laid in slumber. Angst. Speechlessness. A flutter. Time has made us coward. I’ve dared not act upon emotions. For its consequence is too much to bear. There's a shimmering disturbance at the corner of my eye and I will not be afraid. I see them still.

I know what I don't need. And that scares me quite a bit. What I need are next moments.

The same cloud takes over with the same hovering swell and rapture. I can't fight nor resist it still. I can try but I give in.

Your freedom should not hurt someone else.

Have you seen a deck of cards that could devour you on the inside? Innocent clicks are the cause of your acute pain running through your system. You swallow your hurts telling yourself that you shouldn't be feeling this way. You keep repeating, "Aren't I glad it ain't me on that stage". But you know you need to do more than that. It is not convincing enough with this entry taking shape in words.

This is the long dark night you have been walking without much light ahead to lead the way.

You only have enough to get you to the next destination.

It will forever hurt. Lesser each day. But still. Hurt.

And it will remind me everyday to cherish the things I never saw.

This is new.

The distance established and absence of proximity.

Nothing but a slow dance.

The silent wave of calmness taking sail amidst the wreck that never did quite came.

Tangled laces come undone as time unravels paths.
I've seen where you have trailed off and I remain in the sun.

I'll keep walking on...

Tell me I'm strange

Tell me I'm peculiar

I don't feel right with this void inside

You took my forever

In a downhill crusade

I think I thought wrong to say the greatest distance in life;

Was death.

Walls are there for a reason; What are yours? Aren't we all moving a little too hasty that we don't have a minute to spare? There are no walls to climb without you around. As close as I will ever get; my knees starts to cave in and I find myself running frantically in the opposite direction. But when I do return, everything has vanished.

We can't force another to fit the void that isn't their place to begin with. As much as I don't like to be forsaken... I am invalid. But that's the funny thing about solitude; It draws victims in and then destroys them from the inside out. Beautiful red.

Sitting there at the in between, breathing the salt and earth. You are still not here with me. Nothing but the wind, I still am. A constant blur and mess. If you must know, I am torn writing this. The moment when settling feels like an option, instead of the cliff, I chose wrong. Again.

In that perfect world, I would chose. Your sheets. Your outline in the distance. Your scent. Your curtain. Your hands. You.

I... don't want to get up.

Where do I go from here.

I hate this weakness. But I am made up of it.

In our dark obsolete spaces, we try desperately to wash off these stains, only we know the scripted story behind each scene. We weep in our silent cells. We try our best not to make a sound. But the flash backs keeps recurring in black and white, thick black bold borders and frames.