I will.

In an attempt to find a million things I will do- I know of the million I won't.
I know I have strange ideas and I like hurtling things at my mind at super sonic pace till everyone and everything is just a blur of colours to me.
Even when I know that if I drink anymore I will want to hurl all day next- I still don't stop.
Even when I know that it will scratch the baby pink skin on my conscience's hand, I still go ahead and tell you things that won't allow you to forget me- at least for today.
I am like that. Heartless and selfish to the end of my being.
I know you won't understand it at all- for it is all about me. Everything. At the end of every day. Is all about me.
If I don't exist- how will you?

So here I tell you- I will not love you any more than what I have.

I don't know what I will do however...

Soul-less

A days work met with a practiced smile,
A night's study lost in the thoughts a-while.
The long long path winds away from home, further and further away.

The hills have cried themselves hoarse for years, the trails shiver for a touch of feet.
The air for your breath, the sky for a stolen kiss.
The practiced smile washes the sea waves saltless.

Maybe one day you will leave.
And the pages won’t seem to matter. The words dwindle away to the comfortable silence.
The green will burn in little vestiges, while you gather them in your fist and throw it at the winds.


And from the crackling shell of a hypocrite, the soul-less and the dead. Only a traveller will live.

At the days end- the all deluding sleep.