“Hatred conquers the sea in which is growing thee them tiny pearls struggling a little trying to solve the final riddle.”

Would you want to breathe if you were to ask for oxygen? Would you want to drink if you were to beg for a glass of water? would you want to eat if you were to pray for a plate of food? Well, I wouldn’t.

No matter where we are, what air we breathe or which stars we are under. Your eyes always take me to dream land; that inner child-like peace of mind. That I crave when you’re gone and afar and I only see you when in my sleep.

I can truly see myself in that light, the green iris of my eye like a jungle, full of life. And when snow covers the green, and my skin looses its color I crave that wilderness in my eye.

I don’t want to get down I want to get high. To stay high to fly high out of it.

I’m dehydrated, lacking the water you pour into me every time we drown in each other’s navy blue oceans.

Peace is when I am cuddled up in a snug wool blanket with a hot coffee in hand without worry in mind, so I can dream about red sunsets and the scent of warm, sun kissed bodies.

And, somehow that loved and loving girl can love anyone but herself.

Finding inner peace is a lost art for with every breath and sigh new stimuli comes and leaves us in a pool of racing thoughts and worries.

I want you here beside me, to make me feel like the only pearl you’d be looking for in the ocean.

Should you find the most convenient way of breathing, it will not make you feel more alive.

On the verge of what is there to see, a beautiful landscape of the sea washing away what we’re made off, looking back we drown we fall.

Do you recognize your voice, the one that’s coming from your own mouth, when words are forming on your tongue?

Curled up in a ball slowly shutting down as my body is being devoured by those ugly, fearsome monsters that have lived in my guts ever since I could remember.

So grand yet so small, so important yet so irrelevant, so beautiful yet so shallow, must thee live in illusion or does real life leave too much of a confusion?

And when I was looking at myself in the mirror, I realized that beneath these scars lies a woman, that is good that is kind, that I myself aspired to be.

Carrying the weight of my mistakes I burst into flames that hurt my skin.

As I grow older, I constantly learn more.

In a narrow circle the mind contracts. Man grows with his expanded needs.

Not that I want to be a god or a hero. Just to change into a tree, grow for ages, not hurt anyone.

Alas! When duty grows thy law, enjoyment fades away.

When my world grows dark I remember: Every light begins with a spark.

The moment I am sure that I know is also the moment I cease to grow.

I’ve put my life back together, but it’s all a growing process and that’s neat, too, because if you stop growing, what good is it musically? So that is what I am looking forward to – growing. In some ways, I felt stagnant in my life and it showed.

Dreams can grow from nightmares.