I want to write something but I don't know how. I want to tell you but I don't know if it's allowed. Forbidden is for losers yet I never seem to win. Forever is for dreamers but I never wake up. The devil is for those who relish in sin and God is for lost hope that seldom gives in. Life is a mess left next to the sink, lived upon the precipice of the brink. To think is to fail and to know is to be hailed as a prophet or another nail in the coffin of an empty pale, rid of all memory, nostalgia gone stale. Enough of chasing tails in the dark, or tales of remark; for lost notes, blown by the wind, sing songs to those who dote upon unknown things. So take your time with water, lest you choke. The truth is hard to swallow, as reality's revoked. 

Pause, wake up, sail to a new land. Pause, take in, sink amongst the sand. Pause, breathe out, exhale besotted woes. Pause, this is it, whatever she says goes.

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