Lost in Crazy..

There is always this fine line between madness and sanity. Emotional maturity and you being dragged all over the floor. It gets harder to slip back into what you know you are after getting this far Building. . Polishing. . Nurturing. . Accepting. . With huge chucks of Denying here and there. . We've been always here searching for this great Resolution, but it doesn't seem to be knocking on our doors anytime soon. Impressed? Look again. This is supposed to be amusing, at least for someone.. or something.

PH=2.3 "I ran out of handing you chances to say the right things, when you never do." PH=5 "-Let me be there for you when you need someone. -What I need you for is something you cannot offer." PH=9 "It is about me being put on the shelf again." PH=13 "Because I thought you'd be different. That that was you for the first time in all those years actually stepping up." PH=14 "Because you only ever want me when I'm someone else's" And this is how bitterness grew.

Let him be. Let him go on. He'll grow back ever too beautifully, forgetting the hard bitter amber, that grew out of the barks of his trees. And his two little bright stars glittering under the rain, will shine again shortly under a less jaded sun. Trees dream of a different soil, but will die taken out of their own.

I used to write. I used to write a lot when experiences were novel, when emotions were raw and original. But in a life where everything is tainted by a curse of perpetual returns and same old frustration feelings become rather banal, and too bare to be written.

It doesn't matter if you were the one that left, because they've left a hollowness inside. It doesn't matter really, because you've always been too apprehensive to admit to that wretched perforated little organ you call a heart.

Could this be your world in reverse, the denial into believe, the un-loving for what should be loved. Time.. life.. people.. washing off the significance of lost times and hearts. To all the maybes of what used to be to what it is now. Or isn't. That tune that plays singing to the little souls we were and the great desolations. Not long ago I was so strong heartedly in-faith to what in-love you used to be. Time.. life.. people.. and that fear for myself of how light I made it weigh in this parallel universe that shares no room in space with others. And I'd never understand why "nothing" cannot be a relation.

My bright beautiful little thing, All hidden wrapped up with my heart's strings in fear of you chocking up on them.