one's view of life

Yet another dream of you, it must be time to visit your grave again. Has a week really gone by? I prep myself up and wear the black dress you like. Leave my hair down and smile, I know you like it long. As I walk through the gates the Keeper smiles at me. I take the thorny path and stand by your tombstone. A bitter smile forms on my lips as I throw ashes on your resting place. I softly sigh as I gaze at the souls that come and go wearing their broken hearts. I wonder how I appear. Do I look as upset as they do? But I shouldn’t, What’s done can not be undone. We said all we had to say. I take a seat and let myself sing all the new and old songs that call for you. I silently laugh at how things turned out, how we shot for the stars, but got engulfed by a black hole. 

I finally have enough and hope I won’t be dragged back here next week. As I rise the Keeper comes next to me.

‘You’re the only face that is constant. The others stay for a month or two. But you child, its been 7 years!’ He says kindly. I give him a polite smile and admit, ‘Everyday I run, I ignore it, the more I say it’s nothing, the more his ghost latches on to me. The littlest things he hides in. Even the beauty of the moon he lays within and waits for my attention.’

We stand in silence and once again I feel gratitude to the Keeper, for he takes care of all that’s broken. 

Breaking the silence he playfully says, ‘I guess you want to be the new Keeper.’

‘It would be a hard job.’ I reply, sensing the honesty in his words. For he too couldn’t let go, longer than I and had decided to not even try and moved into the graveyard. I look at him and ask with all my courage, ‘Does he comes to see me still?’

He looks down and whispers, ‘Not as much as you.’

A truth of my version of what I assume.

‘I just wish this hope, this yearning would just disappear. Sometimes it does, and I get so confused on those days, not knowing if it will all come back or if it will all be gone. I don’t want to live a life where a part of my is never mine, how much long must I fight for it all to end?’

The Keeper shakes his head with teary eyes and says, ‘My child, if i had the remedy would I be here? All I can say is keep trying, it can only pass..’

Things you do make me want to accomplish has no barrier. Even though you no longer are a heavy weight, this single thread lies between us, clutched. After all this time, if thats all thats left, I feel grateful. Otherwise, I would still be drowning within thoughts of you. After having peeled layers and layers of you off, this one thin layer is not a problem. I’ll pick at it or let it linger, because it is the reason I try harder… So what is this ping that reaches me once every month? It is nothing compared to the nightmares. There was a time when I couldn’t remember what life was before you. Now, I’m free to an extent, yes you still haunt a little portion of my dreams But it no longer melts me. You no longer have the power to destroy me. You no longer flow. My atoms are no longer of you. You are no longer my electron. I know I’ll be fine, the doc said so too.

Careful steps I walk with. I roam around dangerous territory, I pick up speed, barefoot I run stepping on egg shells. Bleeding I push forward, constantly glancing back, my hair whipping my face, steam evaporating from my skin. I'm running out of air, my strength is dying, I keep pushing with a panicked brain, thoughts running through my mind faster than light. I let myself stop at the edge of my desires, float in the air as the wind cools me down.

I see him, broad shoulders, dark gaze, almost evil like, yet seductive. His ice blue eyes freezes the drops of sweat on me. From a far he releases my soul and we dance to a never ending night. The stars shinning. I'm where I first started, trying to gain my conscience back. I struggle within my own body. My system refusing to give out. I close my eyes and inhale his life. Open my eyes to cobblestones, bleeding I'm running once again. This torture seems never ending, burning from within, caging me in its thoughts. 

Step after step I relive all, yet somehow, my foot slips and in his arms I fall into. His touch burns my skin, raising higher flames within me and the silence is broken. Our bodies start moving in complete harmony, dancing, teasing each other. An erotic dance that we had mastered in another life time. I feel my heart about to burst. I can feel him shaking, too scared to do me wrong. 

As you stand among your heroic air, do you feel superior? Does the shield you hold make you feel untouchable? Maybe because there is no reflection on your shield you don't see the monster you have become. Does our hate not pierce through the transparency? I keep observing you, keep trying to understand, but I'm at a lost of words for the inhumane nature within you. Do you tear gas your kids for having opposing ideas to what you claim to be defending? You no longer represent safety to anyone, and you don't even seem to comprehend what a big loss that is for our nation. 

Do you look into the mirror in the mornings and reassure yourself that you are helping humanity? If so, our understandings of reality is completely flawed. 

Do you feel like god when you shoot canisters of gas at your own people? Are you that blinded that you don't see how destructive you have become? When you shoot your plastic bullets, do you ever wonder how right your actions are? Do you question your motivations, your actions? 

Do the lives you have taken haunt you? Or do they feel like bonuses you have won along the way to survival? 

The terror you create, you don't own up to. The damage you produce, you don't own up to. But most importantly, you ignore the souls you have taken, with no remorse and add more names. 

The righteousness you posses one day will drown you. You will lose your super hero powers, and be seen as what you truly are. Nightmares, monsters, inhumane.

Life being a constant existence, a purity of thought, a weakness of the soul.  A hallucination of oneself. Fiddling with reality. Creating masterpieces of dreams drowning in Ego, reflecting narcissism. 

Life with all its beauty and damage chips at our innocence. Molds us into statuses and for everything a collection of stamps are taken out. 

Life haven already been liven, has its own set of rules that forces you to abide by. Anything less, you’re faced with consequences to burden you down. Out casting you to lie in your cold grave questioning all you know.

Life, a never ending solitude, drives you to the idea of loneliness. Yet we all are connected by strings of being. A cycle of similar things repeating in co-relation. How you live it is all up to you. Yet the same none the less.

You dwell within my spirituality as you glisten with your Bosphorus.You leave me speechless with your unspoken beauty.

As you give off  tons of hope you rip out joy with the your contaminated air I inhale. You provide an abyss of imagination with your mesmerizing lay out. 

Your wind combined with your features is reviving. I can understand how you're a dream; you resemble all that is sinful dressed with naive attractiveness. Your streets are marred with memories, that you probably console yourself with.

You're the root of all disappointments. You’re so imperfectly balanced that makes insanity appear as nothing

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eT464L1YRA

All these love songs these chick flicks, if not real then why sell it? To create minds who will never be satisfied with what is? Love songs that pull at your heart strings, scenes of movies that take your breath away. Wanting to hold on to the feeling, imagining scenes to make up for the lack of romance. Commercializing love as it is not, filling our minds with things that most can not give us. Maybe chick flicks is just an extended version of walt disney. And the songs are what makes all those scenes hit home. 

Are people really not trying to give a little or do we hope for more for no good reason? Most deny another's reality of love and appreciation, is it because there are alterating realities of perception or is it wisdom of defeat and harsh reality? How wrong could trying be.. to put another above onself to let go of who you are to create another, to be considerate and share a created world, rather than vacationing at someone's world. To lose all baggages and be free of it all. 

There is a place where we believe is a better place for us. Yet we fail to see that it is us that can better the place we are in. No zip code or continent will be the answers to our prayers. For who we are is constant, so the choices we will make will be the same no matter where we are, hence the problems we will face, the ups and downs, will be the same only the setting will be different. The places we wish to escape or dream of will only add onto our luggage of experiences, maybe help us view some things differently or change our prespectives. But it won't save you or me.

So many times, we blame where we are and the people we know for the useless drama or headaches. Ironically, we don't notice that it is us who choose all that is in our lives.

There is no such thing as failing

failure is a seeded idea, it is merely a state of mind

There is only life, circumstances and consequences

and there is always something to gain and learn from each process

but no such thing as failure

we only actually move forward

but our brian is so programmed to 'failure' that we dont let ourselves mentally move

hence we get stuck on a single patch work re-sewing and sewing again until it makes no sense