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I like to play a game with myself sometimes. I place my lips close to the ocean and pretend the surface is your lips. As the tide and the ripples push the water up and down, i can't let it caress my lips. If it does, I lose. I lose because the game I'm trying to play imitates reality, and in reality this can't happen to me.

I play day in, day out and I keep losing. No matter how many times I try, the waves pushes your lips into mine. I keep playing because maybe one day a wave will hit us and I can stop playing this game. What I'm trying to figure out is if a wave hits us in reality, do I count it as a win or a loss?

Roadside

The scorching road was ahead of him for miles and miles, the wind flew into his face and this time he felt magnificent. Using his fingers he checked a device, and to his surprise, his eyes gleamed over walls and walls while his head ran faster than the car was driving. It raced and swung into overdrive crashing his head into a thousand cars and left mangled on the side of the road. He awoke from his mental car crash to the scorching road ahead of him, the wind still in his face and the car he was sitting in, intact

Music

Music will console, music will heal and music will hurt. Music will never leave, music will never let you go. Music will be there through your darkest of days and the brightest of lights. Music will never let you be alone and it will never overwhelm you. It has the capacity to make you feel things you have never felt before. Music will take you places in your head, your heart and your soul that you never thought you'd be. Music will make you cry and make you laugh and smile and make you angry and shocked and guilt and happy and sad and a myriad of emotions. It is the best friend that understands you better than you understand yourself. It can read you inside and out, tear you apart from the fabric of your existence and remind you that you are living, breathing and existing at this very moment in time.

Swim

Sail sail sail, feel the currents against my chest and the wind straight to my lungs. Leaving the shoreline, I see the land disappear slowly over time as it vanishes over the horizon. I am dragged to the deep, floating and barely moving but swimming. Making my way forward, land appears and the only thing left to do is swim and swim and fucking swim until my lungs and legs and arms and muscles give out.

The shore is in reach, but I can't get there. I can't get there. I can't get. I can't.

Sadness

You count the number of friendships by a number on a computer screen and compare them to another as a measure of worth. You count a person's worth by a number on a piece of paper and measure their intellect against a mean of 100 and a standard deviation of 15. You treat life as a static thing, problems as a static thing, black and white with no shades of grey. You forget the crucial dynamics of reality and that... That is what I call sadness.

Drop

Drop the anchor, leave me be. Load up the boat with baggage, load it up with hints of me. Let me be dragged to sea and let my eyes see the beautiful horizon while I'm drowning in the atmosphere. Boxes and boxes weighing this ship down, sinking, sinking, set me free.

Tunnel

May I be so deceived, the promise of the brightness ahead. We'll wait until we get closer and closer, to the end of the tunnel that we're travelling through. There's a clear path, paved with mud, mountains, doubt and thin air. Without boots, oxygen tanks and a clear mind, it seems so daunting, so scary... But then I remember I'm not walking alone.

Wings

There's an empty space on her back where wings should be. Instead there's just flesh and bone, not flying but falling. The dent between her shoulders is also a dent in her soul, for she is broken, showing a slight hint of humanity