The Needle and The Thread

The torture we inflict on ourselves with our daydreams.

The lives we wish we had.

The feelings we wish we felt.


The human need to feel.

How foolish must we sound to the stones.


Stitch.

Stitch.

Stitch.


Wounds cut so deep, that will make an opening on the other side.


Stitch through the pain. 

Stitch through the dreams.


Stitch.. Stitch.. Stitch..


The needle and the thread.

Of whats to come and whats gone.


Stitch through the heartache.

Stitch through the memories.


Stitch.. 


Till you can no longer remember their faces.

Their smiles.

Your name.


Stitch..


Till you run out of daydreams.

Of memories.

Of breath.


Stitch..


For the life of you.

For the life of your mother.


Leave the dreams to those who still have hope.

Leave the hope to those who still have faith.

Leave the faith to those who still believe.


Your only truth is behind a needle and a thread.

So, stitch like its your only religion. 

Like its the only thing you ever knew.

The War

My feet are telling me to move.
As if they have a brain of their own.


‘You don’t stand a chance’ they say.


But I’m known to be stubborn when it comes to things like this.

I’m known to drop myself right into something my head creates.

Just to count how many pieces my heart is made of when it breaks.

And I still keep losing count every time that happens.

The cons of a goldfish memory.


A rebel for risks.


But something else in me always pays the price.

Maybe I’m selfish that way.

Inflict more pain just to feel alive.

And then die a little every time.

Till theres nothing left.


Till I’m back to walking again.

But instead, I just stand still in front of my future pain.

Waiting for the strike to my face.

The strike that puts me down.


Its as if my body worships the ground.

But I swear it doesn’t.

Maybe its a Stockholm Syndrome thing.

I’ve grown accustomed to how the ground feels.

How its shaped with its bumps, cracks and all.


But my hands.

My hands speak a different language.

They get locked in from the war that goes on in my body.

Every limb in me has a different story.

And my hands don’t know where they belong in any of those stories.


I pity them.

I know how indecisiveness can be a bitch.


Why can’t my body just listen to reason and agree on one thing.


Some are looking for shelter.

Some are looking for a cliff.

Some are looking for the ring to fight.

Some are just lost.


I can safely say that the majority is lost.

More lost than they’ll ever be.


And my feet aren’t strong enough to move on their own.

X.X.MM

On all those nights you left.

I have felt.
I have wept.

I have slept.

And I have dreamt.

Of the day that I was swept.

Into your warmth once more.


But I was taught at the age of 9.

That the world doesn’t always shine.


I was taught at the age of 10.

To wrap my arms around myself and pretend.


I was taught at the age of 11.

That you are really gone, but not forgotten.


And Im just now learning at the age of 26.

That this hole you left in me, can’t be fixed.


No matter how hard I try to burn my lungs with smokes and screams.

They remain empty of life and full of your genes.


Yes, you left me with a monster.

But I taught myself how to breathe underwater.


At the age of 18.

Is when I finally saw the different shades of darkness, and on them I started to lean.


This world is vast.

And the time is running fast.

But I am standing here haunted by your past.


I am standing still.

But I know the drill.

Keep yourself busy and feel the thrill.


Feel the blood rushing through your veins.

Feel the skies pouring life when it rains.


The life you took away from me.

The day my heart started beating faintly. 


I curse that day.

But I am thankful for it anyway.

It made me who I am, in its own fucked up way.


The Longing

The devil is in the details, and so is love.
The emptiness fills the void, while the head is full of words.


Words I cannot express.

Words I cannot confess.


The weary eyes filled with regret.

Whats lost will always be lost.

With it, the purity of the love she gave.

The nurture, the care that makes a soul revive.


Will I find it again 

Will it be true again


The fear that fills the heart, if the future repeats the past.

The mind playing the usual tricks, to ruin what beholds the eyes. 


I long for the innocence 

I long for the light

I long for the thrill

I long for you in the dark

I long for the suffocation of your kiss

I long for the burning that touched my skin


The collision of the heart and the mind.

The greatest battle in the history of time.


Ghosts that live within these walls

Whisper stories when the night falls 


You have lost your soul

You have lost your mind

You have lost your pureness

You have lost your light


I long for 

I long for

Me.