in the sleepness nights i embrace my hollow thoughts and narrow view just so i can think, and write, texts, and poems, of you. you. yes, you who lingers in my mind, you who embraces me with your shadow. you who keeps me awake and you who wakes up my desires and cravings. 

    in my ever lasting dreams i yearn for a touch. a touch that only you can give. while i sleep i sink deeper in to the chaos that is my unconcious. as i sink deep and deeper i notice several hands of several people who desperatly try to reach out and pull me back to the world of the living. i search, in those hands, fingerprints. the fingerprints that match the inprints of the ink that taints the white paper sheets. 

    on an empty canvas i see everything but the emptyness. in my state of hunger for love and a way of out of loneliness i shout words yet make no sound. in the need i have for your atention i realize that all i ever wanted was to be noticed. not by anyone. anyone but you.

    

    in some songs i can find confort. confort in knowing that me and you are still dancing somewhere other than here. here, in this reality, the only dance that we are able to do is the dance of avoidance and hatred towards each other. i often regret the knowledge that comes with the ability to love. so i pray, on my knees, that i forget how the warmth of your heart resonated with the blizzard that surrounds my soul.

    i once dared to dream a dream where me and you could survive without killing each other. i once believed that we would learn, mold and adapt to our surroundings. but, darling, oh darling, how wrong was i in believing in such an idealistic yet irrealistic truth.

    in life, the only truth i found was the truth in the lies that we are told from the momment of our conception. "from womb to tomb, we are bound to others. and by each act and each kindess we birth our future". 

    i gave. i gave all i had and all i never had. my eyes are dry and i can no longer cry. the river that flew in me as bleed out for as long as it could. in the desired cold that is death, i find an exit to this reality and this truth that we can't escape from by any other means. in my death, i find confort. in my death i find everything. everything but you. and to me, even thou alive, i feel dead ever since the momment we departed ways and turned our backs towards each other.

    i did not get the chance to meet you. you, queen of all hearts but mine. my grave, more empty than what's inside of me, holds nothing. no body. no soul. no me. holding nothing or being held by the nothingness that was being alive. between something bad or something worse i choose non. i choose to not exist in this world where being myself is more painful than all the pain i ever felt. being myself, i could not have been anything else. and, if being something else would've made me happier, i am glad i never was anything but me.