Untitled

We're fighting battles in our bedrooms, hospital beds and in the rooms of professionals. The war that we're trying to win is not on the battlefields over ideologies but in our heads over thoughts. The guns we use to fight aren't bullets and tanks and the opposing side you face is not a swarm of soldiers. Although the truth is that if you lose in both cases, death comes to your doorstep, takes you to its abyss where you'll live forever.

Storm

The thunderstorm tore right through him, the lightning struck him between the teeth and tore his jaw apart. Over the loud cracks and rain he screamed and screamed. The gust blew him from side to side, throwing him wherever his mouth dangled while his body hung off it like a kite. Each breath was a struggle, worrying that his jaw would finally separate itself from his body. He cried, trying to hold his mouth but he couldn't hold on any longer. The thunderstorm cast away his ability to speak...

A dedication to the biological processes

I conquered and that was all I ever thought of it. Not the glaring person, nor the shape of the intelligence or the vibrant aura that surrounded, just a thing to conquer. It's a shame really, because I would have enjoyed an intelligent conversation or getting to know you, or even hanging out as friends. Giving into our own physical passions is ultimately our downfall. Seeing people as physical objects and not beautiful metaphysical creatures will always be something that baffles me profusely. It almost pains, to enter through my own door late at night knowing what I may have taken away... Not what I have given.