"We are where the sea and sky meet we are when night melts away to a new beginning" - Sarah

"those long walks in a faintly circular path, meandering among the other minnows heading the other way, eventually knowing we'll be meeting up again, herded to the same eventual end of infinity. gentle hills wreck your willpower to walk--insidious, creeping, trials of willpower to drain brainpower.

"cage-free eggs" is always for breakfast, but why should they be cage-free when they essentially roam a bigger cage? it constrains and it breaks, and the ring-shaped buildings press inward among us until we can't breathe for lack of space: compressed human flesh huddled together in a vaguely circular shape ready for crushing--human pizza anyone?

we escape through the cracks, and snow falls on the ground. topsy-turvy, but that's life. we look from the cracks and corners, and we spin our music and our strangeness and open new paths for new escapees. it's our own Underground Railroad, our own refuge from the inner and outer world. it's too easy to separate the two--sanctuary imagined.

the only thing to do is to jump on the eaves of the roofs and run lightly upon the ground wishing to fly. by the end we'll grow wings and fly away from here"

                                                                  --screwds

"And smiling is downright one of the best things ever." -Brock

He waited for the black to disappear. When the dark would fade into the morning. Patiently patiently he stayed. For the hazy to turn clear. The dull to a crisp and fresh light.
But it didn't come. So he walked. It didn't come. So he ran.
But it didn't come. Fingers touched only air, black air, nonexistent air.
A complete pitch
Black where he came from. But even home could not be found.
Impending doom, and drowning feelings, they all gurgled up in his throat to strangle his lungs and stab the mind. Terror to desperation. desperation to Terror.

Lost. lost. lost...

And so he quietly...sat down. And sat. And slept..in fatigue, in sorrow, in pitiful surrender. The frenzy had passed, and though his eyes could see only black, he knew much more. No friends to save him, no family to cry. He dreamed of colors, and the past that was before.

"Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart."

"Ohmygod ohmygod", I shout inside my head as I scramble to the floor.
From the clouds I crash to the ground, desperately trying to hold the pieces together.
They crumble. They break. They shatter. And slowly down they fall. Slowly..but only in my mind's eye.
The strings, they're shredding. The connections, they fade.
But out loud, only a whisper escapes my lips as the wistful tears well up.
The pictures are now blank, the memories now gone. Too quickly they disappear.
Foreign feelings and stranger words...

"What do I do? What do I do?"

"Every man casts a shadow; not his body only, but his imperfectly mingled spirit. This is his grief. Let him turn which way he will, it falls opposite to the sun; short at noon, long at eve. Did you never see it?" -Henry David Thoreau

I reach out. Slowly, cautiously, my hand moves in the invisible air. Held in a graceful curve, it reaches out in front.
Ah.
My fingers retract from contact. Cold. but invisible. What is this?

My hand approaches again, catching at the air.
Ah.
I feel it once again. A wall, a window, a cold glass pane. Invisible.

Touch.
I find a corner. I walk around, to find the other three, and I sit.
Leaning back, my head hits the air and I rest my eyes.

Trapped.
The feeling washes over me and I open my eyes. To find my breath fogging up the glass.
Invisible turns into white, and the walls seem to close in.

And as I watch the white swirls condense and float in my white box, I turn invisible. Slowly forgotten by the world.

"If I had the time I'd stop the world and make you mine And every day would stay the same with you" -Noel Gallagher

it's the spark that intrigues me. the beautiful flowering of something new. Fire. where the flowers burn, though itself a pattern of petals. i see them play with the wind, shrinking, leaping--all a game.
The candle light might waver with the breeze, but only to catch on the garments of the heart. Fire. it consumes all with its burning passion, but how long will it burn brightly? for in the end, only black ashes are left.
the heart was flimsy paper to start.

ah, my curious mind. this blank paper heart of mine. who will fill it with scribbled stories? when will it all burn away? as i peer into your world i wonder when i can fold my heart into a paper airplane 
and glide next to you. 

"Missing you and hoping that just like a movie script we will meet again one day"- Never Ending Story

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my thoughts. keep looping around. twisting backwards and upside down. mumbleandjumble.
have i lost it? have i lost my words? my way? my crown?

Words used to be my only lasting friends, but perhaps they have walked away from me as well.

Ah how lonely it is with these broken clouds that blur my mind and freeze the hand.

“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.” - Carl Gustav Jung

Sometimes I wish life had a soundtrack like in movies.

Epic moments, sad moments, happy days, and rainy ones. 

The slow motion effects.

The moving bittersweet endings to think about and ponder well after the story ends.

But perhaps that's what memories are for.

"You will never know"

"Hey," he said.
It was a crowded room. People reunited with open smiles here and there exchanging cards back and forth. A brightness seemed to flow from the ceiling outwards around and over. The past and present were guests.
It was a light room.

He continued, "Hey remember when--?"
But I heard nothing more. Had I forgotten his distinct features? My memories fuzzed up at the edges. Hazy. Chiseled jawline, confident smile, gentle eyes. Had I forgotten?

"I remember when I first saw you."
Memories snapped. Why? Why was he trying to make me remember this? The past was bubbling up along with the me I had killed a long time ago. But did I want to remember? Familiarity. Longing.
Perhaps in the end we can't help but linger.

So I looked at his face. Hoping for something. But instead seeing nothing. His presence was gone and I had woken up.

"It was only just a dream."

"Once you do something, you never forget. Even if you can't remember."- Zeniba from Spirited Away

spirited away. if only i could be spirited away. but only during a breath of time while the leaf is in the air. for in the end gravity will bring me down to earth where nothing has changed since.

"i'll just let music be my temporary drug. knock me out so i don't have to deal with it all. and they will call me a coward. "

How odd this emptiness is.

When my stomach feels so full. 

When my eyes have so much to see.

A thousands of melodies to be listened.

So many people to meet,

places to visit,

things to do.

yet why do

i feel

so 

empty?