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.

Red

In my mind, I paint these walls red.
In my mind, I give in.


In my vivid imaginations is where I succumb to my demons.

Take me as I am.


Who’s gonna save me if theres no ‘me’ worth saving?


Not my mother.

Not my father.

Not my sister, and brothers.

Not my lover.


In my mind is where I am at peace inside those red colored walls.

In my mind is where I’m controlled by the gun.

The bullets, the paintbrush, painting these walls.

With my red.

My head.

And all that i’ve shed.


I can sense it in the air.

I can feel it in my limbs.


Death is near.


And I welcome it with open arms.

Like a lost friend that I have been looking for all my life.


The ending is soon approaching.


And I’m surrendering in all my fights.

Like a wave drifting me away. 

To the coast of nothingness.