As I breathe in to this filthy smoking habit I’m found with mixed thoughts of lost battles and ancient reckless abandon. I tried to know when to stay but I stay here with the sequence of a pain that starts over and over again leaving my mind hopeless and lost; the entrance to wasteland.
This burden strangles my words when I think I am at the end of the hard times that I constantly try to avoid. I’ve been dreaming on the edge of my nights with a sole thought, it makes me drift away for ten minutes or more, just ‘till all the pain disappears.
I’m by myself; the ocean’s near, it comes with a light that’s starting to fade. It’s hard to focus on more than what’s in front of me when the climb seems unreachable. It dawns on me and I can’t figure out the way to chase away all of my blues which come to take claim on me and all I know is I can’t make the run out of this.
The days are gaining speed on me and my future’s already began, my heart starts to burst with all the sorrow I’ve been deposited for never leaving this place, my time’s ran out. I saw him die last year and for a moment I thought I had left life behind.
The city shimmers all around and I’m always left as the tourist in a china street, it’s raining and I don’t feel any peace on me, bitterness slowly washes my brain and I’m waiting for the next day to wake up. Lately it seems that all that darkness does is clear the sight of things left unsaid with a vague sentiment of nostalgia floating and I’m this only one dream that never fulfils anyone.
I tried to poison my life and all the time pulls me so fast away from it, every trace of me flies like dust endlessly floating so far from the light… I’ve been hunted down, kicked out of a cruel world where the shapes of people’s faces feel motionless, a parade in the middle of such circus where rottenness infects all the other living beings as a virus. All recognizable faces have now lost colour and the eternal fight keeps going within me. It burns me lightly knowing that they dream of me chit-chatting over the phone, talking quietly to the wall where I used to hide and it criticizes all that I’ve become. Nobody’s home and I’m lost inside, there’s a little clock over the screen counting the time until whatever’s left of me disappears just like a little girl listening to her heart break.
At the end I’m going to be there hanging down at the bottom of the world with the lacking sense of true companionship and a lonesome drag of a lit cigarette that will die suffocated inside an ashtray made of marble.
But then, still lying like a pattern of shapes on the floor I’ll dream on the edge again with the same sole thought to shuffle off the planet for a little while, trying to kick away every trace of my painful memories’ stream. And holding to it is the best thing I’ll ever do, the joyous gate to heaven, beautiful and so blasé.
So as if on cue, I’ll breathe until I fall apart.