la La

I dropped my pen in the pitch yesterday. Its the only the tool I know of that expands the concentration of my brain cells. Writing is necessary- even essential- to construct an idea, figure and even lifestyle. Its impeccable to breathe without expression. The only way to denote your existence is by writing. Thats why every word we write is hypothetically past tense. Idea once jotted down becomes a thing of past. There isn't any other way to step up except by walking out of your present and towards the future. Its an exercise which we continue to employ. The only difference is, words make the experience worthy of time. We walk on the track of time every passing second of our lives. Thats how the wheel moves forward. We are stuck with it. There is no choice but to move along. Then we come too far and realize its impossible to go back and collect the broken pieces of ourselves. The only way to relive past, then, is by words. To read it now. Make your past alive by writing down your present. I need to find my pen.

Glittering glass glow no more

The best days are the worst days of our lives. We remember them because they stick to our memories. Their emotional impact can not be replaced. The rest are just ordinary days.

Noise

You deserve this my friend
a share of my grave in the end
A door sealed from within
to block your noise from creeping in.
The choice is mine, I believe
to bear with you or decease

Like a stroke you strike again
and bring back guilt despite the pain
I screeched in blood,
My head was filled with weed.
What else then do you expect of me?
I can't choke and give life to thee.

No one needs to play your game
or in vain scream your name
I wish for you to suffocate
before you begin to infiltrate
love thats left inside of me
and turn it into catastrophe

I've slit my skin and flesh apart
I have cut the cord of my past
So listen now, while I plead
Shut up. Shut up. Stop calling please.
I know what happened,
Now let me be.