The Floods Became Venice

I'm not afraid you'll never stop. I'm afraid one day I'll start to accept it as normality

The Peacock And The Girl

I’m a fountain of blood in the shape of a child.

The Disappointment

I threw myself at the sky, and missed.

The Mourning Sun

Minutes pass my friend, even when you feel that Time itself has ground to a halt. And though they may pass like hours, time, incredibly, inexplicably, moves on. And the hours pass like days, and the days like weeks once did, back when the world make sense. But the weeks? They pass like minutes.

I say this all only as a disclaimer to what I learnt in the minute long weeks that came to pass after you: That if you spend your time wishing it away, Time will do curious things to you. Play with you like a child ripping the wings of an insect. Mess with your head. For Time is vengeful, and though it may heal, it also scars.

Time giveth life. Time taketh away.

The Beings We Weren't

We always descend into nature. Sitting on a pair of rocks in the middle of the woods, we talked quietly about Lorca and Hemingway. We quoted Wilde and touched each other’s freckles in the heat of the sun. You told me that you could never feel lonely out in the open like that. We took off our shoes and buried our feet into the cool wet earth. We waited for years, our limbs entwined, to take root and grow. We became tall and bent, leaning against one another, playing tricks in the woods.

Surpassing Form

I am more than the sum total of my parts.

I am more than all I know, and all I have done.

I am more than my smile or my eyes or the curve of my jaw.

I am more that my anger or my sadness or my joy.

I am more than what I write, or what I read.

I am more than the pictures I take and the memories I hold.

I am more than every kiss and harsh word I have recieved.

I am more than all you did to me, and all I did to you.

I am more than you,
Because I am more than a function.

The Way We Were

Love. I don't care what happened or who did it. Love anyway.

Before Morning Sobers Us

Let’s all get naked and bare our souls.

The Buried Toy Soldier

An old and rusty slide, made derelict by your misplaced innocence.

I Need Help

As you've probably noticed, the layout of this blog has changed. I was looking at the various settings, considering whether I should have a more imaginative background. I decided against it, but found I couldn't work out how to get it back to the original plain back, and all the help FAQs are out of date.
Is there anyway to get it back to the original basic template?

The Sweetest Ommission

And an 'I love you' because I'm a liar.

The Truth We Forgot In Our Haste To Kill

If there is a God, his only religion lies in kindness.

The Lyrics Could Set You Free

They drove you mad with their questions, while all I ever heard were their songs.

But then again, maybe they did come to only sing to me. After all, all you could ever hear were those answers you didn't know.

The Curtains More Beautiful Than The View

I look at you and I see a monster. And I'm not sure if that's you, or a mask made of your pain.
I'm not sure it really matters anymore.

The Forgiveness I Won't Receive

I know it's not much of an excuse, but for what it's worth, I loved you.

The Grief Is Anger Is Sorrow

But underneath the layers of fury, I was astonished to discover, lay a carpet of despair.
You weren’t mad. You were sad.

The Thing I Will Miss Most Is Choice.

Your love made me greedy and like any addict worth his salt, I wanted more.

The Enabling Silence

It is worthwhile to note that while sitting in my room, we discussed apples, the mating patterns of voles, and the article in Wired magazine about whether Asperger’s was on the rise in Silicon Valley due to the preposition of Math-Science genes in the area. Yet I did not ask you a single one of those questions, which are still on a list in the back of my bottommost left desk drawer.

The Child That Smiles Like The Sun

And so they declared you wonderful, and sent you off to wonderland.