Final ReviewFrom the perspective of your deathbedwould you want a heart that was whole?Or a heart that had bled?Torn by lovingbruised with caringthin form beating long after youwere sure it should notScared with healing and breakingand healing againUgly with stretchmarksof growth and expansionpurple with lack of oxygenall love flowing out againas soon as it flowed inFrom the perspective of your deathbedwould you want a heart that was whole?
TNTI, I was a powder-keg of emotion.Rich, uncut, pure massed emotionjust waiting for a sparkYou, you were the flameon a very short fuseFirst we sparkedshimmered for a heartbeatand when we exploded when I explodedthere was a mass casualtyof one
UntitledThere was a sadness in her eyesIt seeped into her fingertipsand with the lightest of toucheslodged itself in my soul
Ritual of FireLust's fingers unfurledat the sight of herlike young flames dancingwith warmth and the promiseof heat to followjust enough to engulf heraliveyet still she watchedas hips swayedunblinking, as eyes metallowed for the slight smileunder the gaze of tempest seaand welcomed the vanquishingof her sanity
FailingsLove failed herthe very first time she thought:She had found herself in the reflection of another's eyes.Had found home under the warmth of another's skin.Had found meaning in words dropped carelessly from (love) drunk lips.Has found safety in the presence of another.
Shards of BeingIt was a husk of a heartset on hatred that met younot to hate you per seBut all that you might offeror beSeeOr discoverIt was a husk of a hearthell bent on not loving youand even in thiseven thisWas broken
By DesignA heart can never be lessthan what is isA heart can nevernot loveSomethingSomeoneSomewhere
The CardsThe thing about life isthat thing about love If you are willing to play the game If you are willing to take that betInvest your heartYourself, your beingYou better get real comfortableReal quick with losing
AssessorI am not the guttered shell fit for abandonment you believe you seeI am built in the land slide of the crumbling facade of your delusionI am the foundations that have rotted in the land fill of your wasted timeI am the cracked windows that reflect the broken light of your jaded sunsetI am the dust coated chandelier of your yearning, curling wires and missing crystalsI am the broken hinges on the door of your peeling trustI am the sharp edges of the rusting sink in you derelict kitchen soulI am the empty shell of the collapsing bed that once knew lovers sighsI am the lifting floor boards of the illusion in the passages of your mindI am not built in the broken pieces of me you believe you seeI am the burnt ash in the grating of your heart, crumbling, cold and blackened with useI am the long grass of your derelict garden of faith, abandoned and littered with filthI am the dripping faucet, the perished washers on the inflow of your loveI am the damp ceiling-boards beneath the
-In the endless tranquil forest,Hidden by the shadows beneath the leaves,I smile; at peace with the world,As your corpse smiles back at me...
A Chance?A Chance?If noone gives you a chance for a long time,then when you are finally given one,most of the times, you gonna fail.And you'll ask for a second one,but you don't deserve it,because out there there are many like youstill awaiting the first one.Do You?Don't Ask For A Chance, Demand What You Need.
The End of the WorldI didn't prepare for the end of the world.I somehow thought that we, reclusive in a hardened bubble-shell, would survive it.I didn't brace for impact, I didn't even consider it happening to us. Why would I?I didn't prepare rations, bedding or bunkers.It didn't occur to me to imagine a post-apocalyptic world in which our love wasn't enough.I didn't see it coming. It destroyed me nonetheless.The end of the world doesn't care for your readiness.
AnimusIf I couldI would vomit my soulAnd let it chain itselfTo my speech Like a parasite.I would let it Become my puppet master,And let it sway my armsIn directionsI never thoughtI would.Instead, I've kept my soulTrapped in a cageAnd watched itTry to biteIt's way to freedom.
Mia Efkeria?Μια Ευκαιρία;Αν κανείς δε σου δίνει μια ευκαιρία για πολύ καιρό,τότε όταν τελικά κάποιος σου δώσει μία,το πιο πιθανό είναι να αποτύχεις.Και θα ζητήσεις μια δεύτερη ευκαιρία,αλλά δεν την αξίζεις,
ForeverYou asked mehow far I would gofor you but you never tookinto considerationthat the earth is round soI’ll end uprepeating myself.
-the stars shineso brightlyin those brown eyes(they're terribly empty, aren't they?)and i knowthat every dayis a struggle(i'm sorry i can't help you)because youhave been sob r o k e n(and no matter what i do, nothing can fix you)but the emptinessin those eyesseems to fade(and life flickers in those brown hues)so i'll climbevery mountain topfor you(just so you can see all the stars in the universe)
UnitedSo far awayBut so close anywayGoing separate waysBut connected, alwaysUnited our hearts areTrue friendship Is our treasureEven when afarOur bonds are unbreakableOur secrets we shareFor each other we standEverytime and everywhere
cognitive dissonanceto: the eater of gods thoughts memories,you are not a writer.you are a consumer, whichis ironic, since you do what you dofor the consumptionof the masses. sometimes.either thator the consumption of yourself. to: the small-minded one, the one who glamorises romanticises tragedy,you are not a writer.at least, not by your own definition.you are a professional liar, an angrysadseabird stealing food/dreams/thoughtthe only title you can lay claim tois thief.to: some combination of twenty-six letters some paper person some notebook child,you are not a writer.y
With YouI'm less alone,but more lonely.