Part of loving all the lessons of life,
is embracing all the aches of death.

If you can't depend on a mountain to cry,
You can't ask a flower to shoot bullets on springtime

It was the light that blinded me,
the sound than deafened me.
The colors that bled with each hue,
leaving only black
and white

It was a hurricane when survival was
old; a habit - a breath.
A flood of emotions that
never killed.

It was an addiction
to love you
by hatred,
and to color you,
by naught.

An obsession, to forget
by remembrance,
and bleed
by living..

I have always thought that ears are the worst way for words to wade through.
Choose the heart, choose the soul, just don't speak with your tongue, and please..don't listen with your ears.
There's more to hearing than just the sound..



Blogger's note: I have a severe problem with words and expressing recently. They're a killer, if you only listen with your ears..

I wonder if you ever rob me of my imagination,
How much of a writer would I become?

Heal me, may you?
Of all the opaque moons that had failed
to shine within me;
Of all the caged birds that sung
of despair and misery.

Color me, will you?
With the shades of pink and
the hues of everlasting green;
color me transparent like water
running free in streams.

Free me -
of the winds of December
and the coldest stones;
of the pale of seasons -
The cliches of the unknown.


And kill me so that I may live
naked of all the lessons,
until you come crawling in
once and for all.




(I suck with endings lately..)

Why would you see me in black and white if you're so colorful to me?