Granite Soul

I hate the uneasiness in which I live my life. As if I was the possession of a stranger and must be kept carefully for the sake of not upsetting someone.

I bite the hand that feed me regularly

Sometimes, I wish you loved less than you did. Because this is enough to warm me up some nights, and to take off the rocks on my palms. But it is never enough in blizzard season, when the memories of the warmth make fire in my soul to eat me up both ways. And it forces me realise the one who put rocks in my palms was you.

Each Day Ends The Same

I dislike people.

I was born without a container to hold happiness. Or it has shrunken to a prune somehow from neglect. My joy runs out of me like water trickling from my palms, leaving me a dry casket.

I long for home so much

Loneliness is not having no one who loves you, it's having no one you can love.

I am wracking my body with silent sobs,

Do you think I do not know

Do you ever have any moments in life where it’s all so beautiful it aches somewhere deep inside?

Atlas means to endure What a burden it must be to carry the sky. To watch the worlds turn and grow To hear fading laughter at the edges of your senses To see a far away field of lavender and ache inside. because its beauty is far too much and You will never lie upon the meadow, and gaze at the sky  Hold a pretty girl and simply smile. Sometimes at night, I can hear him. He has the boldness to pray then. But he does not pray for deliverance Nor even vengeance. He prays to endure it all.

I wonder who I am at mornings When I am alone without the sun's stare And my pillow grows larger, tighter around my lungs, Ensnaring my airways. And my eyes cannot face the dark. I am more in love with sleep than with life. Who am I? When I am not who I must be? Stumbling in the kitchen Shuttering out morning rays Bitter coffee takes away my urge to cling to this fancy. And I am who I must be. I am more in love with ideas, than with reality People always tell me of how smart I am My smile is slow to come There is only hours of work waiting for me at home And in a sleepy haze, I do not see this gift. Only a desire to sleep. I am more in love with dreams, even when they turn to be nightmares. Then my ear is overwhelmed with blood rushing Proof that I am still living. Then I am gasping for air, and it slides easily into my windpipes, soothing the shafed skin. Then I can smile. I am more in love with my mind than this world. I see just darkness past tomorrow. Each day sets another layer of lacquer on my facade.  But when I press myself to imagine who I am, I can see only rocky cliffs and fearsome winds that will force my lungs to breathe

Once I saw lighting explode outside my window. It illuminated the night sky, made it a cinema screen. The light seeped into my soul, and played on that screen every sordid story of my life. each ugly, rancid morsel. flashes of mud upon the electric lit sky. It was only for a second. But a lifetime passed in that flash. And it has haunted me ever since.