Time will kill us

Time will kill us,
Leave our skulls battered,
Shattered all over this floor.
It crushes my ribcage
When I walk, when I talk,
Eats at my fingers, it lingers,
Threatens to kill me
Each time I go to sleep.
Time will tell
When to part, when to leave,
When to bury me underneath
Sweet moments, silver seconds
That faded – so do we.
I think I dug our grave. A tomb
That is sealed and silenced,
In some place only we know.

You poison me – I let you.
I’m losing nonetheless.
But there I go, sleeping
By his side – quite fearless.
There will be time tonight.
And we’ll pull back our bones,
Our skin, what’s left
To fight. But in the end I’ll still beg
For this sweet, sweet cyanide.

Oh the drama, don’t you love it. It’s been a long time since I wrote something creative, but time has become my biggest enemy and from time to time I need to make a lot of drama. That’s how I function. To give you an idea about my reason of writing, it’s not about death or dying, but more about parting… Though you may of course read it the way you want. There is a small chance I’ll be working on this some more, but you’ll notice then.

Enjoy your weekend, everyone!


Sometimes, the air is poison. I won’t face a mirror now. If I’d so, I’d go mad. Insane. Like you.

Like you. I cannot do what you did. You thought you suffered, do you know how much we suffer now? You lost yourself, and so did we. I know you. I knew you and your thoughts. I thought I knew. The truth is that you lied – though you didn’t really lie, but you silenced. If only you had told someone, anyone. Then I shouldn’t have to face you now. I wish I could have helped you out, I really do, but how could I have done that? Like everyone else I was entrapped, entangled in your playlet. Somehow I believe you didn’t want us to abandon our script. It would only have caused more problems. Talking. Taking medicines that would not have worked. Waiting. Waiting endlessly until all would be over. Isn’t it?

Is there another world for you? I hope there is. A better world. Anything so that you can be happy, finally freed from what bothered you here. From all those things you could not handle. Sometimes, air is poison. I can feel my lungs panting for air. My skin wastes away. Words and sounds have never been so useless as they are now. Everything, everything is too late now. Everything is over. That is the strangest thought. Over.

Can I still join you? How I wish you were here, or I were there with you. Sometimes, I imagined us sharing one mind. Somehow, I still feel it. I lost you, but I still feel it – if only anything could bring me to you. Straight to heaven. It would be so easy to leave all sorrows behind – I bet you thought the same thing. Just get it over and done with. Leave it behind. Laugh at those who can’t. They are too keen on what they posses, on their beloveds. Laugh at those who don’t dare. You have guts, haven’t you? Mock them who don’t.

Just don’t mock me, not me. I cannot follow you now I see how other people choke as I do. They’re all suffering because of you. I don’t want them to suffer. I didn’t want you to suffer. But as usually, I’m just standing here, doing nothing, because everything is in vain.

In vain. No matter what I do. I loved you. Yet I couldn’t have foreseen that you didn’t love life. Yet I cannot console anyone, especially not you. I could never have done so, could I? You would have mocked me. You would have withheld.

You would have died. Anyway.

*For those wondering, no, none of this is reality. I was inspired by sad songs of depressed artists, and by the way people felt by some of those artists dying, or anyone near them dying. The world is not the best place to get happy. However, which place would be better? Much of these thoughts on the matter I tried to put together here. Go sobbing now, and next post I will cheer you up.*

Waking up alone

I have had a great night, filled with darkness and dancing and fresh faces and a free bottle of wodka.
But then, when waking up, I really feel like I don’t want to wake up on my own anymore.

(I know that I’ve posted this video before. But today, it’s that sentence above all. You’re free to listen to it again though.)


Dear someone

Dear someone,

I’ve become 18 recently. I’m an adult now. You wouldn’t say. It’s like I remain the same person throughout all these years. I don’t change.

That means that I never become a happy teenager. Have I ever told you that? I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone. Should I throw it on the Internet then? Maybe not. Maybe I should be smart and leave you in peace now, and don’t pretend to write a letter that’s worth the name ‘literature’.

What reason do I have to be a not-happy teenager? I’m young and vital and I’ve got a home and a family and everything. (I even have a cat) Yet, I complain.
That’s not completely true. I do complain (dear lord yes!), but I never complain about what bothers me mostly when something is bothering me.

There are other things that bother me too, such as my finger that was hurt today. Now it’s swollen and less useful.

I’m at the point of saying things I should not say on the Internet. I will now stop myself before I start to regret. ‘Cause I easily regret.

After all, I’m acting pathetically, but I believe I can do that, every now and then. Let me at least post this song, and the next post, I promise, will be a lot happier.

Thank you, dear someone,

Yours Sincerely,
Another someone