Shall loss be felt as the inherent objection of being? Why does the echo of mortality reign in the presence of pressures of pain? Shall wrath be dealt when loss is done? Shall words be slain where please be naught. What force of play is at work but a trance of the medium soaked in the brine of the sea. Shall the tyrants of the waters trample on the mermaids who belong? will life unfold in ways you can actually perceive to be true. Or will it all bear down to inexplicable existence. One where we walk among ourselves, completely naked, yet shielded from the harshness of reality. Jesus, the world is called place to live in. With all its dark apostles looming overhead like a bat falling through the sky as you pull your way out of the maze. I don’t know where I want to be. With the struggle of the demonic triggers as the endless torrent of clouds blur up the heavenly view of the deities. Shall we succumb to its glory or shall it all perish in a dark cloud of smoke. Only one of us will find out and it may not be you. Yet who am I to doubt. Who am I to judge. Does the face of this earth not be composed entirely of the vagaries of hay and moss. Will the sun shine less brightly as the dawn approaches. Yet will we be shielded, yes be shielded from the apocalypse that is about to envisage its harshness… Through the wicked rain.,… My words take flight into the fancy world that is not . Shall we be reminded of Steve Jobs in its passing. Or is it merely a guise for the sacrificial ones. The lambs who gave in so mercilessly in a struggle of debate.

What of the new realm? Does it bring peace in the form of falling rain for a courageous heart? Does it sing songs of praise to the darkest of corners as humans evolve into the next generation of being? Why are we cold in our hearts but warm in blood? Does the sound of silence beckon its realm through the torrential rain? Shall the knight be spared the torture; lest be spared the blatancy of existence. Perhaps we shall find peace through life’s maladies; while we seek refuge from the world of the undying. Shadows of doubt lurk overhead. The dark mist falls… does anyone listen to the vagueness of the light? Seeping its way into the very essence – the fabric of the soul. Will your spirit lay to rest, or shall it flourish into eternity?

And I couldn’t understand the infused life I live in. Where I live my life not knowing how to plan for a proper futue. Where I must accept the future is bleak and uncertain, which I understand at its core. Striving becomes difficult with this knowledge. Let go it says. Am I living in an illusion? Where I imbue my ideas onto everything but nobody listens. Like being in a 4 walled room. Where the voices creep in but have no where to go out. Do I stoop in silence as I watch my life erode away? Where best be applied the force which I possess? Should it be found in the book of law or an entitlement of it. I feel like I live in a tragedy. It is inappropriate to put that as fact. As clouded judgement. To be honest with myself I feel a sense of sadness. Like I don’t really know what is nworth living for. An illusion everyday, turning from left to right. Love. What is love? Is it a means of sustenance. What signifies love. I am loveless. Like a soul who has no purpose. Guided by the wings of self -righteousness. Why life is so damn fucking difficult. I don’t know where to start. Where it ends… do I really want to know. A balance, I deplete my soul with the yearnings of false hopes and pains. Do I really believe in love? I don’t know. Everyday is an illusion of the day before. Like a broken record playing itself and ignoring what’s wrong. Give and take they said. The only way relationship works. How much do you give. Does life really work. Is this where I really want to be? Is suicide really that hard? Am I really over killing myself.  Such destructive thoughts to be contained by the self. Generating psychosomatic disorders in the internal wanderings of the mind. Shielding off but lost. Distracted but focused. A life with no meaning.

No meaning at all. Going to sleep to see a better day tomorrow? Does it really exist? Will problems really be solved? Probably not. May God have mercy on the soul. Am I to live or die? Shall tomorrow be worth it or a condemnation of reality. I fail to believe sometimes. Hope is elusive, like my soul. Lacking expression, hidden from the world but wanting to shine. But each step is its own demise. A cardboard figure forced into a box of clay. It is really pointless. I can only breathe.

And as the walls cave in I look into myself to see if there was any light of it. How the winter never ends, how the skies meet and the spirits merge. Just by writing this I actually feel a bit better, putting down a piece of me to good use. The torrents of the dreaming never seem to disappear, and as I exhaust my energies, there are times when the oceans shall part to bring about utter peace. Just re-reading that to see that none of the above actually makes comprehensible sense . Th eword sflowng in a current of supposed brilliance, paving their way into the unknown sheet of white. Glciers. Mountains into the pass. Be trong and weild the power of Neptune. It will be of your aid.

I am so confused with my life at the moment. It is just one aspect but it deals with the whole way I am living. How important is it to be? To state what you want, what you need and have some agreement? I see peace before matter is resolved. I attribute it to weakness. Apology is not even required. The healing salve heals itself in time and in wakeful rest. The truth is I can still continue and the thing that holds me back is the perception of myself. Do I want to be so weak? Or is that being strong? My voice drowning in the wayside because the heart of righteousness and fairness wants to shine. Maybe I don’t even see love anymore, it is more like patience and kindness which comes for I am not sure what reason at late moments. I am struggling and I know you are too. But why do I feel you don’t see it in the same way. Do you ask yourself what is the cost of this relationship. How important it is to be good rather than sustained. Whether we fear to be apart. Whether we are trully alright with the situation. I can leave it all behind in an instance and have the same loving kindness after a short span of time. Yet I remember, like any other person does, about the recurring damage we have which I don’t even know if it’s eating my soul. Maybe I am holding back in the Chiron fashion. Living with that fear born into me which I must overcome. Or maybe it is all temporary and I am making it all up in intellectual debate within me. I struggle to be sometimes. Sometimes it comes too often… But what do you think? Do you think at all about it in this way? No one is perfect, but somethings could really be better.

I don’t know a lot and my body suffers. Ouch ouch. Doink!

Choose a road. The road you want. The road you need. The road that keeps things going.

And the days pass. Maybe it’s just me being too unstable. Yet it’s the current of unsuitability. I’m inclined to believe the voice. Somehow things have always turned out. Maybe I fail to believe. Maybe it’s just an illusion. Maybe deep inside I’m just not happy. Believing something better is out there.

I think I have lost the battle for pride and madness, but have gotten myself the friends I needed to pull through anything. Thanks all you peeps out there!

I do know that my drum is different, it’s even sort of weird to most. Yet it’s because I have let it wash aside before this that my grasp on life has reduced. It’s that difficult balance between mild-pleasing and keeping to my own ways. It is difficult indeed.