Born To Die

Our legacy is only as relevant as the civilisation that acknowledges its existence.

How are we to prove that our feet once tread the earth, within remnants of decaying organic matter?

Ever since the dawn of life; When our hearts learned to beat, as did our eyelids flutter.

Ingrained in them was an inevitable truth.

We see through those lenses, as light of verity coursed within our veins.

We chose to ignore.




We were born to die.
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11. 11. 11

The 11th day of the 11th month of the 11th year of the millennium.

11. 11. 11

It could signify lots of things. 1 being the ultimate position, the first. 1 being the only one, the exclusive. 1 signifying strength in a number. 1 being complete in itself.

And so, let's make a wish.

I wish for strength.

For love.

For happiness, for joy.

For success;

For wealth;

For clear skies;

For health.

I wish for peace, for understanding.

For kindness, virtue, notwithstanding.

I wish for friends, far and near.

Blossoming relationships, hearts true and dear.

Best of all, I wish,

That time does us justice,

And we live to see our wishes come to exist.

We Found Love

Yellow diamonds in the light,

And we're standing side by side,

As your shadow crosses mine,

What it takes to come alive.

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny,

But I've gotta let it go.

Shine a light through an open door,

Love and life I will divide,

Turn away cause I need you more,

Feel the heartbeat in my mind.

We found love in a hopeless place.

I wouldn't mind dancing in the dark with you,

Lasers piercing our hearts,

Conjoined as one, the bass our son,

Melting into a hypnotic furore.

Hiding My Heart Away

I wish I could lay down beside you when the day is done,

And wake up to your face against the morning sun;

But like everything I've ever known,

You'll disappear one day,

So I spend my whole life hiding my heart away.

I Wish I Had Loved You More

Part of me still refuses to believe that you're gone.

I can feel it in the deadening of my emotions, an inherent sadness that has left my heart, but courses and throbs just beneath the skin.

I wish I could just cut it out.

It's taken a lot of work, but I've felt a reminiscence of the truth - a drop of the heart, a chill down the spine.

I wish I felt more.

Last night I had a dream. It was so vivid I still remember it clearly. To be honest, I blame the instinctive nature of our relationship. Innate, habitual, repetitive, fitted. As fitted as the outsides of my soul to the inner tendons and muscles of my arm.

I wish my soul could know you better.

Therein you lie, a ghost of an appendage. I remember having something to tell you. And just as a severed arm is imagined to move, I ran around calling your name.

I wish I knew you'd never answer.

But it takes more than pure determination to bring someone back. It'll take the realm of impossibility and the entire Universe to put you back into your fragile damaged body - for to accomplish such a feat would tear asunder the rigid fabric of our known existence.

I wish I had the power to.

Funnily enough, I was expecting it. Because I needed evidence. I needed to see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, the silence that encompassed your absence. He didn't have to say anything. No words could describe the deafening presence of a life gone by. And we just stood there. Staring. Contemplating loss. Feeding grief off morose destitute. What was there else to say?

I wish I knew.

On that beautiful sunny afternoon, I ran around calling your name, knowing you would never ever answer again. Knowing that you would never walk through that door, never look me in the eye, never smile, never laugh.

You'll never ask me how was my day, never tell me what kooky thing you bought for dinner.

Never sit there and watch me eat, never keeping me company.

Never

Ever.

I ran and yelled, ran and yelled, ran and yelled.

Ran and yelled, ran and yelled,

Ran and yelled.

I ran and yelled,

But you never yelled back.

I wish I had loved you more

Back to Black

What do you do, when there's nothing left for you; When you realise that all you're grasping at are phantoms of a prime long gone. Auburn photographs ignited by the ghosts of recollection, fuelled by reminiscence, but ultimately reduced to nothing but dust.

Everyone's going home.

I want to go home.

I miss home, I truly do.

But I can't.

I can't allow the idea that when my two years here are finally up, the time I spent in this foreign land will be nothing more than a mere dream, to form and solidify into the bane of my existence.

People have asked me, why don't I go home?

I tell them I am busy with my work; That plane tickets are expensive, that time is not on my side.

Truth is, there is nothing left for me in my home country.

What will face me is the bleakness of my future, the warm lingering of a past that has hurried me by.

I don't want to taint the memories of my childhood and adolescence with my skewed, harsh, disdainful grown-up lenses.

While I'll be welcomed home by my loving and wonderful family, long-lost friends and a plethora of hearty meals, they'll eventually have their life to live, their own future to carve.

And I have mine too.

While staring into the bleak face of uncertainty, it isn't easy to relinquish the possibility of a better life elsewhere.

Better make good use of what we have now.

Better fight hard for what we want now.

Because soon, and I mean very very soon, I may be leaving on a plane.

Back to where I came from.

Back to harsh reality;

Away from the dream.

Back to black.

What Makes Winters Lonely, Now At Last I Know

Now at last I know

What a fool I've been

For I've lost the last love

I shall ever win

And/Now at last I see

How my heart was blind

To the joys before me

That I left behind

When the wind was fresh

On the hills

And the stars were new in the sky

And a lark was heard in the still

Where was I

Where was I

When the spring is cold

Where do robins go

What makes winters lonely

Now at last I know