there's a leak in my heart.i want to be naked in a room with you and only touch your face.
i want to marvel at the pain in your eyes and the choke in your voice, asking me to please, please, don't fade away. your eyelashes become black smoke and i mumble something about falling down.
so desperately do i want to close my eyes, to curl up in a ball and make my life an instrumental. but clinging onto the strings of my soul is a hand formed by thousands of i love yous, and countless feelings of inadequacy. i am not enough for you, and you are not enough for me. there will never be enough in this world for us. we are the disappointed. we are the ones that love with more than just our hearts.
lyrics form from the saliva in my mouth, and i sing them to you without a second thought. i am ashamed of the crack in my voice but you pretend not to even notice, and i squeeze your hand, hoping beyond hope that the calendar has made a terrible, terrible mistake.
i long to fulfill our wild and shadowed dreams, but bursts of gree
routineIllusion, that we share, among all the feelings,
comes together with fear:
to lose somebody, to lose
yourself, to come
to an end
without being a winner. If only
there was the beginning at all.
Somebody dies among these feelings
surrounded by fear -
It is not you
"It is no big deal" - - -
Pointillism.with each and every point
i create a dis.joint.ed image
that cannot be deciphered when you look
my thoughts are the same. you try again and
to decode my logic.
and you will not. full stop.
as each mem-o-ry grows
thinner my hands begin to s ha ke
and if i push down any harder my pen will
i've run out of red. i guess i'll use my blood instead
to make it personal to me.
my conclusion begins when i take the black pen from
Act your age.That's enough.
You think because you're older now,
It means you're more important?
You think you have anything over me?
I've got scars you could never see,
I've seen things you wouldn't believe,
I think I know just as much, if not more,
That you even realise,
About how unfair this world is.
It does not measure experience,
It's merely how long you've lived,
A story, your past, your mistakes.
You are not better than us,
We're very much equal here,
It's time you 'act your age'.
ReflectAfter countless nights of staring at my reflection and delving into the pits of my self hatred,
I sat down one night and stared once again.
"Aren't you tired?" I asked the sad man in the mirror. "Aren't you sick and tired of BEING sick and tired?"
And as always the man stayed quiet.
His shoulders heaved up and down and his eyes,
they shut down tight, desperately fighting the tears that welled up inside.
"Don't you want to be happy? Don't you want to move on? You are not him! Don't you see? You are just YOU!
And that's all you CAN be!
Don't you get it?! Wake up Tristan! Wake up!"
I stood and so did that sad man in the glass.
We stood together and we touched hand to hand.
"You're not him Tristan.... You're not your dad..."
We cried together, me and that man.
We shared a pain that no one else would ever understand.
"Don't be scared. It's ok."
But before I could say what I wanted to say,
That man he pulled his fist back,
His eyes, full of sadness and anger,
He brought his fist back to
on feeling or being sadi believe there is a difference
between feeling sad
and being sad.
like how you might feel sad
when you've had a bad day,
or something upsetting
has happened to you.
but being sad is when
things like depression happen,
when your whole body
aches and you don't want to
get up in the morning
because why? when you can't be happy
feeling sad is okay,
until you become sad
and you start to lose yourself.