The dominating sky held earth in a distance where men can't reach no matter how far his arms stretches...
I read in one of the books I bought about how Einstein thoughts understood things other men didn't; finding every possible solution rather than sticking to one solution we concluded the best...
Probability of some things...
personal agenda...
ignorance...
curiosity...
pain? ...
boredom...
liberty?
.....................
The night sky calms me... as I watch the clouds dances around the moon, thoughts of finding myself is a dinner of heart burns and headache... voices kept changing but they ask the same thing...
what are you doing?
A closure of misfortune, distrust and disgusted beliefs, a momentum of anarchy, socialism and over rated exposure of what is happiness and what are satisfaction... what is beautiful and what are meaningful... dictated with the wind of stupidity and dependence, I relied on a joyous moments while living a lie... or so i thought.
As the night sky dances around the moon and the stars, I walked around the paved ground of my daily bunt, barefooted I dragged my foot felting the hard knuckles of the soulful steps..
"how many have walked in this?"
"how many stories can you tell me?"
"how many tears of pain? how many tears of joys have you taken in you? "
"how many stories can you tell me?"
"how many tears of pain? how many tears of joys have you taken in you? "
I stare at the ground as I asked this question in my head... My happiness isn't define by the smiles I made neither the laughter I took for granted... everything I did was all in the past,,, what my present isn't titled to judge my own action but will it dictate my future?
....
I cut my foot while rubbing my sole to the ground, a piece of metal was stuck on it probably from an old guy's shave... I bleed with delight for somehow It felt right. Insanity in me is only a child... a mischievous matured portion of myself is what I fear most... again... I'm hearing voices... ...again.... and again.... I'm hearing them asking...
What are you doing?
I silently stepped away while I tip toed my way back to my office chair, few months ago I decided to make an office out of an old building my family owned.... the business here was slow and my uncle bought it but he has no idea what to do with it. but me... I wanted to own a business of designs, graphic and architectural creation are my inspiration,, just like a smoking addiction, designing is a breath of fresh air for me... from the 5 day of work in an office of unquestioned discrepancy between life's responsibilities and life's meaningfulness. I needed some time alone with my flows and sanity, my insane depression and my uncanny weirdness...
I held my old charcoal and a piece of scratch paper of computations and drawing proposals I made weeks before and started scratching senseless doodle of lines and geometry... just like my life. Between my professional stagnant growth of corporate practice, and my desire to be who I am as I desired since I met liberty... senseless doodle are posted on the old storage walls, hiding all the cracks and bleached paints of laminated sheets....
"What are you doing?"
I asked myself...
Failure doesn't hold meaning to me, but it is a shackle of bolted pins and metallic balls on my wrist and legs.
a second paper and still messing around with a black and white sepia of disfigured creation... I wanted to learn art... but my friend told me, you need to understand emotions first.... emotions... pain and happiness? love and fear? trust and lies? emotions...
.....
I held a piece of cloth and poured alcohol in my hands... the cold wind is a breathing cold fire that burns my palm, i didn't noticed my cuts until the alcohol touched my skin... "must have been from the time I was cooking dinner" I thought.
Pain... holds no meaning to what I want. But it is a cage that held my sorrow and satisfaction away from me.
what are you doing?
Stop.
Stop!
.........................
Then Silence....
I can't hear the slow music...
Silence...
The broken faucet has stopped dripping
Silence...
... trapped...
....Caged...
My hand held slowly but tightly a piece of blade...
DON'T!
My eyes stared at the blurred reflection of my face...
"Who are you?"
no respond.
...silence...
then blood.
my sight started to dimmed ...
Silenced.
Blinded.
Wounded...
The box that caged me...
The whispering voices that held me..
...everything ....
gone.
nothing.
not a feeling.
nothing but my body moving again.
... I pushed my legs to stand and walked to the charcoal portraits I made.... I feel weak... and a little bit confused....
I smiled with that feeling...
and smirked while I can feel my life running dry
I wonder what will flash back to me...
a journey of regrets and failure...?
questions...
can i still find an answer?
how does it feel to be wanted ..
how does it feel to be accepted?
how...
how...?
how.
how does it feel to be accepted?
how...
how...?
how.
I dropped the blade and held my hand high on the paper walls... The voices in my head stopped. But I can feel their presence...
their whispering voices...
silenced...
but with an open eye they stared. My feet started moving... the blood are now spilling.... my eyes are shut. but my lips are smiling....
In my last ounce of strength, I dragged my last writ.
A last vowed...
a last promised....
a memory where I'm the only one that understand it's woth...
I smiled....
Emotions?
I understand it.
I understand it.
As I dropped on the solid knuckled floor, with my left wrist cut and my right hand held the damped cloth... I slowly opened my eyes and stared at the perforated roof of a self made office floor.
Held my left wrist and tied the cloth around it.
Held my left wrist and tied the cloth around it.
The voices grew on a menacing souls that ripped me a part,
my happiness and sadness,
my caged of undignified actions...
my mistakes...
my regrets...
everything...
written on a canvass of charcoaled paper wall...
written above the black and white emphasis of my depression...
my last writ of emotions.
A promise of a silent moving on,
un obstructed emotion....
my apathy.
Enough.
