The Shifting Clock

Can you really tell the future by what the past has handed you time and time again? Does the darkness always over cloud your light? Is the water you struggle so hard to float in meant to drowned you anyways? Does time only shift to represent how long you've spent experiencing the same kind of hurt over and over? No matter how many times I fight off the bad thoughts and how much hope I give for this time, that sharp fear still lingers here.

Threw The Dark And Against The Silence

A child sitting in an empty room in front of an old clock. Tick-tock, as the minutes go by. The child watches in silence. Tick-tock. The sound won't go away. Tick-tock. The room grows dark, light just on the old clock. Tick-tock. The child's eyes cut threw the dark. Tick-tock. The hour hand lands on twelve. Twelve o'clock, but no "tick-tock." threw the silence a child starts to scream. The sound seems to be coming from the clock as the child's young eyes still watch in silence. The screaming grows and the child in silence now curled up in tears.

Heart Beating and Still Breathing

It's one of those rare moments when you walk into a room and all of a sudden your heart stops for just a moment and then all you can hear is it's pounding and each and every breath you take all echoing in your ears. The moment when everything seems to be moving slower and your eyes find it's way to witness every single motion committed by the others around you, no matter how little or how big. Each breath they take is in time with ten of yours, each movement they make seems so slow and delicate, each detail of every second being pointed out to your eyes in slow motion. Seconds become minutes and minutes become hours as the pounding in your ears only quickens it's pace as the rhythm becomes the only way you can measure any amount of time with. The moment where your heart becomes heavy and you want to collapse as the air making it to your lungs doesn't stop the black vail that's being pulled over your eyes as you're pulled into darkness.

Love is War

Old lovers to enemies and sanity turned to insanity. Love is truly a war, age and history is nothing but a rank. Look beyond the battle fields and see where this war is going, a future with a built "country" with peace amongst the long worked soldiers as they live with the ones they've been fighting for.

Tattered Heart

I used to hate goodbyes. But now I'm so used to them I use them myself... Life is short and I'm not blind to the fact people have no problem walking in and out of my life. I know everyone experiences people that come and go. But my heart is so tattered from it, I'm happy my heart is hidden in my chest so no one can see it's abuse.