gsayour

 There's the sun and there's an horizon far away from me.  He lands on there, and I land on my pillow wishing to be  anywhere  else.

I feel invisible, untouchable. I feel like nothing could do any harm on me but myself. Have you ever felt this way? Have you ever felt like you weren’t here, only your body, staring at nothing at all, like something caught your attention, but there’s only a white wall in front of you? I feel like a blank canvas, impermeable. Wrapped around a rough translucent paper, and no one could take it off of me. I feel like nothing. Have you ever felt like that? I don’t know what nothing is for real, but I also don’t know how I can feel it so strongly like I could explain it for hours. But I can’t because I don’t kn

 “She thought it might be good to drown in such a beautiful blue sea, with waves swallowing her whole as a deadly pale fish.” It was a pretty beautiful day, the sky was clear, the weather was good, and the wooden sea-shore house of her looked like a tiny point in a desert from someone’s view, far away. The pier was number 17. Just like the times she has passed living throughout life. She walked all the way to the pier, without any slippers on. Her feet were burning, and her head was up above the clouds. She couldn’t feel a thing. She couldn’t think about a single event in that moment, if I could describe it o

 Sometimes when I'm on my bed, listening to the thunderstorms outside, I open the window just a little enough for me to see the raindrops falling over the trees and the lightnings touching something really far away, and lighting up the sky with their power. So strong, so yet ephemeral. But when I'm still on my bed just listening to the rain, I wonder what would be like if some of those strong and loud noises outside hit my roof, leaving the ceiling to fall over my head and body. I wonder what would it be like. I wonder because it's like I could see all the scenario in my mind and feel the ceiling falling. And it happens right before my eye

 Where are you then? You're made of stars and expect me to call you, expect me to fill you, expect me to touch you, but you're so far away. You're out of reach. You make yourself out of reach, you're not supposed to do so, you're not supposed to make me feel this far. Where are you now? I'm made of shattered tiny pieces glass, master-piece of feelings once broken by people that once left me drifting away, and here I am, touching the sea and the reflection of the moon, like I could touch you, like I could feel you, like I could be closer to you, in a simple touch; but the waves of sorrow have thrown you away from me, like the lifetime I'

 There's art in the act of a pistol Right in the middle of your skull And your finger pulling the trigger Like no one else in the world could do for you. There's art in the edging of a knife Like an abyss in-between your veins Spitting the dirt as water And collapsing in your own latest breath There's art in pain Paying with your life And your cold blood There's art in pain No stitches or bandages or hesitation And you'll fill your empty black heart With all the songs inside your mind Playing in shuffle while you think of forgetting your life In a jump, leaving the train station

     There's no me in the reflections. All I see are traces of misguided words looking for a shelter; they're all lost, like me.     But there's no "me". There are only words. I'm full of words and full of nothing at the same time. Is it even possible? This happening blows up my mind every single second of every single day.     I must put an end on it already.

It's so frustrating how I seem to be able to just talk about myself every time I try to write about something else. I always end up saying about how I feel this life must have an early end for me. How I clearly don't expect anything in my life more than I know I do have by now. How there are so few people in this life that I can relate to, and how they all are so miserable... And then I realize how miserable I am too.

       I enjoy sitting in the corner of the room with the lights off & reminding that things once were a heavier burden for me to carry within. Yet it just doesn't mean that they aren't still as heavy as they once have been. I keep this burden here inside so I'm not injuring anyone else but me, so I'm not being unfair with anyone else, so I'm getting what I deserve & then letting go of it like I let go of people only in appearance; because their ashes are still here inside & they burn me up like I was a home set on fire. I'm a destroyed home, though I'm not a home for my old self any longer, and I keep thinking that maybe this is the right th