Everything was real Sadness, pain, joy and happiness intertwined in a knot that only you managed to untie. I continued to push and unknowingly entangle new and new knots, in the end they turned into terrible cobwebs. Then you get tired. He looked around and saw the random nets indiscriminately. He looked around and saw the light piercing the small holes with its bundles of glowing swords, and he ran to it, ran, and fled from the memory. I tried to stop you, but you shouldn't. Some birds are too bright to be caged. I had to release you, let go of your white hand. I lost you now. Everything matters to me and nothing can excite me. The beginning of the day is as far away as the end. I lost my precious and now I'm on my knees in the mud, drowning in cheap whiskey and no mental sex, from which I come out with hurt feelings and rebellion of all the senses known to the hangover, collapsed human .... I try to climb the ladder, but only reach the third step and jump back into the shit of insidious and hypocritical feelings, vomited by human prejudices by people over the centuries. When I touch your face, I fall prey to the illusion of the impossible. To the illusion that perhaps man has a reason and how to change himself, that there is a U-turn for the sinner on his way to Hell.
Illusions drive people crazy. They are sent from the rise of the spirit to the fall of the body, from success to failure, from truth to good news that never comes. They change their moods just like good music. However, life is not a song, it does not close in on an illusion. His kingdom is everlasting, spacious, full of imagination and passion, to the north bordering on madness, to the east with the burning love of two. Everything and nothing because of something that is not even in our hands. I will not change, I will remain forever lonely and melancholic when I am alone. I will be myself during the night, I will hide behind her shadow. During the day I will leave the house and myself, outside. I will pretend that everything is fine, that another's death is not my death, I will close my eyes when I see the pain of the old man in them, I will not lend a hand to the fallen, I will not inspire the child who lost his first dream. I will die for myself ... I made a mistake that could cost your happiness, deceived by the chest and the charm of our non-existent future, I thought, I thought that we could be two melancholy crazy in the night and that this would end of problems, of the day, of love and my own. Apologies have lost weight, the words are over, there is nothing left to say. I receive forgiveness from you, but I do not even dare to ask from myself. We all end behind the ship "Life". I hope only for another good swim, for a touch of pure and unadulterated beauty, hidden behind the slippery stones of the clear pool, behind the noise of the falling autumn leaves, behind your smile showing the way to Paradise, my dear. Everything was real, like life and death, like nothing else in the world...
1 matlana answered
Once you shit, men become amazing romantics and writers. Thanks. How much easier it is to be in shit than to stand up and keep growing up. Bad