III

Sometimes I hate the world a little more than always.

II

You and I,
We'll catch each other,
When we're in the rye.

I

With her , I'm with you
With you , I wither..

Why do fireflies have to die so soon?

Why do Fireflies have to die so soon?
Do they die trying to teach us that beauty lies even in the inconsequential and is ever so fleeting?
Do they die trying to light up our blindness?
Why do Fireflies have to die so soon?

The ballad of Ranchu

He was born for great things, that he knew. What it was ,he did not know yet but he could feel it, he could feel it beating along with his heart in constant competition ,teasing and reminding it that Faith was just as important. The others did not understand, they were too content within the confinements of the “see-through” wall, for them it was the world and it was enough. For Ranchu, it was a prison, a prison that shrunk along with time. Sometimes he could swear that he felt the wall closing in and then the cold invisible hands of panic would choke him ,leaving him gasping for breath. The dreams of the world that lay beyond the wall haunted him and grew on him like a tumor.
The wall was a marvel,it could not be seen but it was there..cold and solid like reality . There were times when the fortification would vibrate ,as if awakening from a long deep slumber ,sending ripples of unadulterated excitement through his body and on excruciatingly rare occasions when the light from the “small sun” (inside)and the real sun(outside) embraced like long lost brothers,the wall would rejoice and mimic life of its own.Ranchu spent hours staring into the eyes of his ghost,sometimes with the playful pleasure of the young and unwanting, sometimes with the deep melancholy of a lover looking into the eyes of his beloved for the last time.It was hard to imagine that the humans had created such a wonder,but then again humans were capable of great things,evil things,the invisible prison stood testament to that end.

"sweet dreams" she said...

“In the land of Memory the time is always now. In the Kingdom of Ago, the clocks tick…but their hands never move.”



I dreamt of you again today… We are at a party, friends all around us, people dancing, drinking and just shooting shit , celebrating some mundane occasion I can’t recall.. And then, somehow, we find ourselves alone, just you and I. We are trying to make conversation, talking about nothing really..We don’t have to. Somewhere, very far away from where we are, the music plays on and someone yells and people laugh in response. I look at you and you just sit there smoking, lost in your own thoughts. You turn around suddenly and catch my eye for the first time tonight, I try to look away, feigning innocence, but I can’t. I look into your eyes, the world fades away. And for reasons I’ll never understand, you lean over to kiss me… I wake up.
I dreamt of you again today, the dreams are not so frequent now but they come and they still hurt….


"When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part"

Zorbing

(Definition:
zorbing noun
/ˈzɔː.bɪŋ/US pronunciation symbol/ˈzɔːr-/ n [U]
an activity in which someone rolls down a hill in a large transparent plastic ball)

Another sleepless night.Back hurts like a bitch and why wudnt it?How long have I been awake?Tried readin,cudnt do it! Tried sum crosswords,head almost exploded.Tried eatin even.Just feel bloated now.Being sober is such a pain ,isn’t it? Being sober gets you thinkin.And dat aint a good thing,cuz it gets you thinkin but it still can’t help you think straight. Its not like I’m sober by choice, I’m sober by reason…I just don’t enjoy trippin like I used to. When you do somethin long enough,it gets boring.Thats the “exit”cue, I think.
Now Im not THAT dumb either(its what I’ve convinced myself of).Sure,tripping was getting boring but dat wasn’t enuff to get me off it.No,I needed “inspiration” and ,damn, I got a shitload and an extra serving of just dat.In the days that followed, I got the shit kicked outta me by four guys (all high too)and ended up with a ruptured eardrum.It’s healed now but ,man ,my ego is FUCKED. Those pricks sure knocked the chip off my shoulder for real good.The trippin dint stop there tho, a few days later to commemorate the ocassion of being dumped (yet again) I carved two new “love” lines into my left palm cuz the one I already had wasn’t doing me any good!! How stupid can I get? I leave the answer to your imagination. Self pity is self destruction and I’m aces at it.
But comin bak to right now ,Do I miss the trips? Damn right ,I do…but I still have I life ive got to live (whether I like it or not) and although the pharmaceutique numbess and distilled dreams that trippin brings seems so alluring I gotta move on,achy back and all.Yea,yea,yea… “…but it’s a good thing to be sober ,etc ,etc ..so on and so forth”.I’ve heard it all before so stuff it.I’ll tell ya this..being sober is so fuckin overated.It’s just as shitty as shit can be.
Man,I wish those four dumb fucks were bak..maybe they cud beat me senseless this time……