Transcending-Forever

                                   I'm day-dreaming of                                  A false happiness to come;                                  Overtake me, please                                   Take my despair away                        

Flashbacks to her wasting away Bring me to tears; Cancer stole my mother's mind, And scarred mine. So let me love them From a distance - I don't want anyone to feel this way, When I'm gone.

The problem is not that everything is changing too fast. I can deal with anything.               I see masses of people everywhere, but I see few human beings. People consume the lies they are fed. When you attach billboard words like 'progressivism' to a cause or set of beliefs, you have the benefit of labelling your detractors Dinosaurs, Racists, Creatures who deserve to Perish. Thus the ever 'tolerant' become viciously intolerant. Sheep become wolves, tearing at the fibre of your being. But politics is beneath me. The truth is, all I've ever wanted was to meet real human beings - people who will share every thought and feeling, who w

They say: 'All men reach and fall' - But whosoever falls forever? I fall through years and distort Time as you know it. My nights and mornings are one and the same. My memories are violently vivid, unreal dreams. This continual fall is not synonymous with some decline in character or intellect. My end always seems so close to me, though I am beginning to doubt its gloomy inevitability. I look back on all the catastrophic events of my life, and still witness those symbol dying parts of me in some of my dreams - and the phoenix-like rise of something new. And I realize -                                                                 I a

There is no structure To, Deprived, Insomniac writing. Am I half asleep, or half awake..? 4.21am... About an hour and a half ago I was imagining, maybe dreaming, of the touching that would bring me more comfort than I can now describe. I am still in bed, not asleep and yet, not really awake. Something, or lack of something, won't let me be. Won't let me sleep.. Let me sleep... Countless faces are drifting through my mind, like ghostly apparitions - My mother. I check the time on my phone, and her face is there. And the mild surprise at seeing her face, makes me feel almost like I'm not remembering her anymore. The probable irony of

                                                   Some broken hearts                                                     Will love again,                                                   Some fractured minds                                                  Watch sun-rise, and mend,                                                   Some happy dreams                                                  Are cherished by friends,                                                  Because you have love,                                                   You will triumph again                                                   Some broken

I could be in love, For what it's worth. It's a strange thing, living in darkness. In broad daylight - whether in department stores, or, walking to the shops to buy something to eat. I'll usually wear a cap, as always, it makes me feel like I'm minimizing attention drawn to myself. You know, when you're walking down somewhere urban, and a girl occasionally searches for your eyes. It's easier to mitigate that feeling, when in those moments you look down at your watch or somewhere beyond her, with apparent purpose or mild intrigue. You can't always escape the city, but you can usually escape the always-never changing people. I'm no good wit

Of the first disobedience He is unaware, All the while given to His last, overriding lessons, But he is destined to Be aware, Of love absolute, That kindles even His mind's, coldest landscape Of his inner strife She is unaware, All the while given to kissing his dry, clenched hands, And she is destined To be aware, Of her hatred for him, Chosen by him for His quiet, repented escape

The Deepest Despair within me, Cripples me; Only for a Fraction, of The Longest Second. Her name was Claire, I call her 'Mum'; Her absence stretches to The longest, Coldest Desert, where I search the Oases for my Final, Wasted Misery.

I knew before I stepped on the mat, that I was fighting for pride. I was fighting for the thin abstract you call 'soul', I was fighting for the elusive hope I call 'me'. My first opponent was young, like me - he maybe had 15lbs on me.. ... And so we fought, and it was a messy affair. My sidekick struck his elbow, and for every 2 or 3 times I struck his torso, he attacked me some more. The judges were shaking their heads, they would not give me the scores I needed. So I re-adjusted belt and mouth guard, and kept on counter-attacking until everyone around me relented. In overtime, I scored the points I needed. My second opponent was tall,