In the end... broken promise.

Instant photographs, instant video, megapixels of memories, terabytes of terrified realizations crashing down, foreshadowing launch. I don't even get it anymore. The more thought spills through the cracks the faster the the cement dries. In an effort...its always too short.

I try.

I do.

I fail.

I lose.

I don't get it anymore.

How strong are our passions really? How weak has our work ethic become?

I don't need to be some hipster fag to get the message. pretty soon the line between liberal hippie and corporate will be lost in the mix not sure where either begin. In the end.... who knows.

We lose the most important part of ourselves in trying to do what is important. We are selfish either way but which end of the spectrum is right?

Balance is the biggest joke anyone can tell. It doesn't exist.

Balance just means you're forever unhappy if you really think about it. How much do we have to give up to achieve balance. How much do we have to suffer and struggle through before we reach serenity? It's all just temporary. Even the most intricate tattoo is only temporary as once the wearer dies the tattoo ceases to be.

A beautiful painting is the result of constant self criticism and agony of trying to achieve something so beautiful yet once that last brush stroke is settled and the running water thins out the last of the paint on the bristles, I can't stand the sight of it. Constant imperfections and wish-I-coulds...
Shoulda, Woulda, Coulda....
I wish I could feel that forever happiness even for a moment. Realistically that is about as long as it will last. Im tired of missing. Im tired of wishing and hoping and praying only to come out this battle a winner by default. Im all set thanks.

You will only love that which you cannot have.

You will only hurt when everyone tells you how lucky you are.

You will only trust when someone is in bed with your significant other.

You will lose everything once you find yourself on top.

So if this formula is the American Dream then we all need to wake the fuck up I suppose.

"One day with hard work and determination you can be successful." That is what they say. They don't tell you everything you will go through. Just the paraphrase. Honestly its like telling a virgin that raw doggin' some chick is the best feeling ever never telling you that you can get her pregnant.

Everything has a price.

I miss you, I love you, I'm happy, was happy, hate, fuck, life, work, sucks, Breathe, sigh, repeat.

Lose yourself now because there will never be a more perfect time.

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Fuse.

He sits alone surrounded by walls, guilty of seeping light. He's cold and although surrounded by peers of his kind he feels so alone. It hasn't come to mind how long its been. The best explanation fails his thoughts.

the click, click, click of rolling film. The comforting heat of the dimly lit lamp. The passing sounds provide the soundtrack for the evening collaborating the diminishing lines of graphite, soaring through the tip tap through typing. Also what has become the soft whisper of music in the background. Perhaps his thoughts rewinding and fast forwarding.

For a second it had almost ceased. The calm nights tucked away in reveries featuring trysts starring passionately locked lips likely to keep such a promise alive.

And so it was.

For lack of a better word...

Perfect.




Suppose the world could only be communicated through association. What would it take to muster up the courage.  Despite the dangerous ways of nature, as the Sea 's infamy of claiming the lives of so many, the fisherman sets sail.


The alarms of passing fire trucks and ambulances paint the night sky as if the sound could be traced along the stars. The low hum of the realms keep me grounded.

Roll film.

Weeks to months of torment can be seen in seconds to the mind of an insecure man. Years and eternity can be over in minutes. Frame by frame as the plays and re-runs of moments past, analyzed in complete retrospect and the fuse is lit.

The distance grows and I am but a hand grenade begging to be held. Fear me not as I am helpless. Please put me back together.

Yet a second of compassion could have preserved a life worth writing about. Stories worth passing on to children and lovers, friends and family. to provide inspiration, as the single greatest commodity known to man.

Time.

The ultimate challenge to the ultimate combatant. The time to spend, to cherish, The time afforded to discover what can never be recorded in maps or graphs.

The pin hits the floor. Counting down.

7.

It's unbearable to digest the delicate piercing pitch of steel as it meets concrete. A mesmerizing note that travels through the air seducing all within its range while simultaneously deafening the world around while counting down.

6.

The beads of sweat, choreographed to sojourn past a beaded brow of an army of men as the echo of their lives reverberate through space as the plume of smoke rises from cindered ash, providing the single greatest proof of every truth held dear. A walk on the beach, The first kiss, the remnant elements of the day your life became complete, now counting down.

5.

The pulse of time closes to a steady pace. The fabric barely grazes the flesh. The air lathers the tips of the hairs on the nape of their necks softening the mind while counting down.

4.

The heartbeats grow fainter. Beating in unison. In this moment we realize we wont die alone. We don't have to fight alone. And all I want is to be held, please put me back together. I promise it wont hurt, instead they're counting down.

3.

The shrapnel fragments burst in all direction, the original designs for the design come from a man who spent his own time and money to develop the artillery; such a noble way to ensure the defense and survival  while ironically counting down.

2.

The paralyzing fear has already decided their fates. And All I wanted was to be held, to be put back together, to given a shot to be something more, to find the profound in the mundane, to enrich the degraded, and uncover an opportunity to be something more.

Vessels run cool, the last beat passes as the numbing sensation tickles their bones where before it happens you already know you wont feel a thing, the mezzo piano bleeds into mezzo forte and the crescendo of the climax culminates all while counting.....