Who holds the knife?

I find it curious that homeless and beggars should be treated as invisible objects.
I comprehend the safety first idea, but wouldn't that be a bit too much if we get to the point of completely ignoring people? We can't know beforehand if someone is willing to fuck us up with a knife, and if we are in a place where there's movement, and open stores, can't we at least trust a beggar with our attention?
I feel ignoring completely and just passing by is quite disrespectful.
Not something I'd expect from someone who holds the flag of social progress.
Maybe social stuff only matter when it's to fight for the causes we invest ourselves.

Weak

I'm sorry...

It's been a few days I heard the songs that marked those dark days.
I haven't improved shit since then. I haven't followed any of the words said except for the self destructive moments. I have nothing to tell you. At least on the topics you deserved to hear.
It still makes sense. And that means I'm not done yet. I barely started. And I keep on this roller coaster of money and things to do, things people say I've got to do. But I don't know if there will be time enough to do everything. I don't know if these aches are normal and if all these problems to sleep are normal.
All these dreams, all these characters willing to go to great lengths to kill me. Did I tell you I've dreamt a ridiculously long dream about eastern Europe? And even there I found trouble.
A weird cheating wife who was crazy with guns and then her black-magic bearing husband thirsty for revenge.
I've even had planes falling on me in Japan.
It seems nowhere is safe.
I wonder if had that day not come things would be different. Maybe not, there would be somehow another reason for me to hunt myself. At least you would still be here. 
Coming to think of it, it looks a bit stupid because you were absolutely not that into being near me as you were with others.
I can't focus much on anything and I don't want to go to work. I don't want to see my friends and I don't want to start anything. Because it's broken. Maybe some things are never meant to be fixed, actually. They aren't broken, they just don't fit among the other pieces.
I have so much hatred boiling inside for these eyes that keep on watching me from afar. I don't know what do they expect of me.
I'm too weak.

Flak

Quirk.
A word that came to mind upon thinking about a path of description for this year's launch.
A quirk of fate that it turned into such disastrous discussion. It's mind-boggling how it spiraled down, yet one can always choose to blame overworldly forces for one's quirks.
We all had our curious behaviours, by simply paying attention it was easy to spot something was off. Well, something seems to be always off. We're adults, we're tired, we're anxious, we're worried. Each and every one carried an amalgam of these. We focused on our private worlds, but the connection between them, it felt lackluster.
Maybe it's just me, but this ain't a rambling about connecting people and closing the mirrors that drag our attention.
It's a coming in terms with a big part of 2018. The rage I beseech as my burden has been along time enough. The newcomer is the projection. We make projections of people by small quirks we've seen on the ones we hate. And thus we forget that the one right in front of us ain't them, it's those who are by our side. Traits and ideas of those we hate are a part of those we hate, they aren't the true definition of them, for people concoct a myriad of traits in becoming themselves. And the process is never-ending, as our constitution changes from time to time.
The events molded us, and will continue to do so.
I need to control the tendency of disagreeing with people. And focus on not projecting.
Despite hating those who feel superior, I can't go all-out on anyone who shows that trait. Sometimes it's those we care for. We need to focus on remembering there's no good and evil, and many times ideas we hate are a part of people we admire.


But what if, the projection is helping us?
In which way?
It is a sign that one is becoming like those we hate.
While it could be, young one, remember signs are very vague, and reading signs ain't much into our book. It could be a transition into something better, for all the variables to account for aren't even known, if they ever will.
But what if they become?
Then they did, and as long as they are satisfied and following their beliefs, it ain't our business. We can present our anguish, say farewell, and things of the same sort. But it ain't our duty to change them or keep track of what they have to become. Don't fall prey to such ideas.


Hold the flak, these aren't our targets.

These crooked dark visions

I just wanted to come here and tell you I realized something.
While I was preparing to take a bath, I know it, it's weird, but it has happened quite a lot lately, the wee hours were never that wee anyway, you know it.
So, under the duties of that procedure, I realized, or maybe I just had a hint, some sort of epiphany. Or something else and nothing and all...
But, do you remember the Ents? I thought I was wonky due to the moments I cried in movies. What makes the tears drop is those strange scenes, that aren't actually strange, they are cool and all, but crying on them is strange. I have a lot of Lord of the Rings moments to list, from Gimli welcoming the fight in Moria to the last march of the Ents, all the way to the gates of Mordor. It was always, those epic pre-fight scenes or something. 
That was the light I had back then, I cry on epic battle preparations. But, I just had this thought, under the hood of explaining myself to the crowd, that I find it emotional because those are examples of people (I know, I know) following their duties, even if it means sacrificing themselves. The dedication, the discipline, it's mesmerizing.
And that could perhaps explain, why I insist on what I do. Dunno, it's stupid, but, maybe? That could be my mind trying to set itself in peaceful grounds, while I swim though the chores of a job I don't feel satisfied...
Looked more insightful back when I thought it...

It finds you after sleep

I wanted to tell you the name of the game. But that would take away the fun of it.
So, what's the name of it? Do I get any hints?
You see, the name of the game lacks substance.
Is that a hint?
So much...
Something that lacks substance...
The name of the game came from above, but now finds itself below.
So it's something that... descends...?
Oh, oh, poor one.
No patronizing, I'll get it. Is it fragile?
Oh, ho-oh, as fragile as can be, like thin glass...
Fragile that goes down...
DOWN AND DOWN AND DOWN!
You're beginning to scare me. W-well, so far I got 3 hints, I suppose that's all I'm entitled for.
Entitled...
Hm... so, is it... rain? It comes from above and the raindrops are fragile, but I'm not sure about the substance part...
Rain...? What the hell is rain supposed to mean?
Ok, ok. Not rain. You see, you gave me 3 hints already but it's all to vague, I'm pretty much at a lost in here.
HEE-HEE LOST. YOU HEAR THIS? HE'S LOST, WE'LL BEAT THE GAME!
Erm... who you talking to?
Beat the game...
So, maybe...
Smash it! Beat it to a pulp!
Yeah... we will beat this game... I suppose...
Tear it apart...
I appreciate your determination, but could you come back to our guessing game?
...
Oh, that's... quite a strange look...
...
Would you mind coming back a few minutes in our chat? I need your answer, I think I got it.
The name of the game...
Could it be... a leaf in autumn?
...
No?
Come a bit closer.
Why?
Just come a little closer, here, like this.
Did I win?
A bit more, okay, that's nice.
...?
So, you lost. But still, you're very courageous right now.
Why so?
You're... you're...
Ah... what's wrong?
YOU'RE GAME.

Lest we forget

Last we met you were so high and mighty about those around you. Now I see you've forgotten, abandoned and ignored them.
Is it the touch of death that rises these eyebrows? Or is it... the blazing speed of decaying dreams? I see the fire has started to dim. And your fire has yet to prove itself. Is it a fire that starts and ends without a purpose? Are these flames as lost as the shine in your eyes? Nothing burned, nothing was altered. The ignition has thus served no purpose.
I see now that you're regrouping. Did you lose count? 'Cause I did. This is past the tenth or so "rearming", is that the name? The way you call it.
Maybe if you need to rearm again so much in such a short timespan... weapons won't solve the problem. Maybe you are the problem.
You hide behind these people. Behind the ideas you imagined about these people. Crouching when you should be standing. I view the whole battlefield, and you're not even into the main event. It's been so long, so long...

I see your pain, and your fear. The mind-boggling array of voices that overtake your domains once every week. You hate Mondays, and thus, you hate Sundays. And on Fridays, you hate Saturdays. Because one day leads to the other. And sooner or later, the cycle restarts. You cannot avoid your choices. But you can make new ones.

I know you're sad. And you and I know you won't take that leap. No, not that window. No matter how inviting it may seen, that type of self-destruction will never be on your menu. Funny how some ideas are deeply engraved into our psyches.
But that which brought you joy, that brought you lessons, that gave you ONE FUCKING REASON TO WAKE THE FUCK UP, you did not take in your heart. Maybe some oaths are just meant to be shown in seasons. Makes you humans feel like you're part of something, by saying something is a part of you. Everybody is made of parts, but the parts are replaceable.

Now watch the fires burn while you repeat to yourself you need to hold your ground because others may need you. It's all about the money, right?

Maybe it really meant something by that time. And since you already betrayed that which you for long swore to love, betraying yourself is piece of cake. You never truly felt fond of rising these eyes when facing a mirror.
By the thorns of undevoted love, I hereby mark my position. I will be the watcher of your decay. Struggle, my dear human, for your words shall no longer be treasured, nor will your acts be an inspiration for next generations.
Let the judgement begin.

No clouds in the horizon

It's funny that we ended up this way.
I guess you could say I belong to the abyss, for time and again I've been winding up here. Perhaps lately I've been more searching than avoiding it.
There's no comprehension so far for this thing I feel. All this rage, astir. Morosely swallowing its chains. It's me, and it hurts me. For all this time the solution was simply making sure its target was only me. But if even the bones of our backs tend to bend over time, how could these answers not befall the same ordeal in due time?
Your back aches, your neck hurts, your stomach suffers. All these strange symptoms popping around your body, is it time?


I feel tired when I go there. I always heard you shouldn't go to work as if you were headed to the slaughter.
Maybe I should've paid heed to their words before.
It's true.


I feel I've overdid myself in my frenzy. It wasn't an all-out social suicide but it was... some sort of teaser. I believe there's way more triggers now.
All these triggers...


Do you think we can make it through the elections?
We'll brace up, we'll lock down.
If we control it all the way through, do you think it's gonna be okay?
We'll silence the noise, we'll focus our eyes.
Could you please answer me in a way that makes me feel you're you?


Guess that's payback.
I don't know how to control it. Time flies.
I keep on saying that I love you but I do not prove. We've been distant all the way up to now. And possibly for many more days on end. I feel like saying I'm sorry but I'm the one who seems to sink. You didn't abandon me one darn minute, not even when I sleep. You've always there, and once I sleep we're together. A never-ending role fest, where all can be new by merging the past.
I can't say sorry, except for the fact that I've been weak. A coward and a sinner.
A coward and a sinner.
A betrayer and a killer.