there is time to kill today, tired of lying in the sunshine and swaying in the rain, kicking around the ground of my hometown. and then one day, i find; ten years have gone behind me, no one told me when to run, i missed the starting gun.

i run the catch the sun, but it’s sinking, the sun is the same, but i am older now, short of breath and many days closer to death, hanging on in quiet desperation, here is my reflection.

(…ened before) there was noise, not the kind you notice, but the kind that just hums, just vibrates while you are sipping that coffee, the kind of vibration that fills the spaces where thoughts should be. i remember feeling of movement — of walking, running, but the ground never felt real

the last cloud i saw, it was a general, bleak-looking floating piece of water, but something about it felt final. maybe it wasn’t a cloud but a ghost of it, tho it marked the end of something, i can’t put an accurate finger on what. i wonder if the atmosphere has given up too, if even the weather had grown tired of performing for a world that no longer noticed.

“abandon all hope ye who enter here” was written on the last brick. i don’t know if i was the one who wrote it.

i sit behind this gigantic crusher of dreams, thinking of blankness, just looking around, nothing more than static-buzz sounds, while looking for this so-called happiness, i mean, i have heard about it, a lot actually, i keep hearing whispers about what drug happiness is, the way people chase it, inject into their brains, using any emotion to just get that genuine laugh, to finally not just exist, but for their existence to be known, even that be for 5 seconds from their genuine laughter. once i heard someone saying a guy was just laughing all the time till he died, is this happiness? who knows. the unknowingness of this happiness makes me sure that i forgot about it, makes me realise that i have had too much of the other side.

there’s this wall, i don’t know how long has it been here or who built it, maybe me? its surface a rorschach test of my unraveling, i see all kind of stuff on this, somedays a graffiti in a language i couldn’t decipher, somedays it is a bleak board, telling me about myself, a reflection of myself, i won’t be wrong to say that i saw nothing on it, it mirrored me back as a silhouette, does that mean i am not human anymore? well who knows?, who knows what staying behind this dream crusher does to you. somedays it talks to me, tho it sounded like desolation and forgotten birthdays.

my body’s a cathedral of ruin, every muscle and bone of my body is screaming like they are getting burnt alive, i keep my eyes close most of the time, it feels comforting, like i am floating in a black velvet void, am i in the flesh? who knows? no friction, no wall, just the hum of my own cells dissolving, i don’t wanna go back, this bliss of floating pierces through what i found was an immoveable object, comfortably numb i am. goodbye cruel world.

the silence here is deafening, the hope here is cruel, and the quietness pulled me in, here is nothing, nothing has been here to describe what has happened here, i am nothing, this wall is nothing, it all is.

(this has happ…)

the lunatic is on the grass, remembering games, jasmine flowers and laughs. and if the dam breaks open many hours too soon, and if there is no room upon the hill, and if your head explodes with dark forebodings too i’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

the lunatic is in my head, you lock the door and take the gun, throw away the key, there’s someone in my head, but i am not the one, and if the clouds bursts thunder in your ear, you shout and no one seems to hear, the line between my mind and here is blur, death on me seems to cheer, time is ticking, what is it now? morning or noon? listen to my croon meet me on the dark side of the moon.

the time is gone now, the song is over now, thought i’d something more to say, i can’t think of anything to say except, laughing is nice.