My life in Quotes

  Subject She called out to you. Looked out the window next to the door. Will you ever come back was the thought. So overcome with emotion she opened the door. Lying on the pavement was my body. Covered in dirt, lying on the ground. As I was lying there, I wanted to be picked up. My Father picked me up in his hands. Brushed off the dirt on my face and kissed my forehead. The sole purpose to be picked up was to go back. I wanted to be saved from my life. Selfish mortal was I. Sent back to the ground, I leaped into the air. Time has not ended for me. Mother in tears smiled upon me. Father in the skies cried for me. I left grace and found a new chance. Time isn’t mine, we are all subject. Time is no mans.

  Stronger Than You Hating this pain, Wishing it would all go away, Nothing seems to stay even you will go away... Nothing lasts forever and neither will this... sigh...   Oh and congratulations on failure, This is how I'm stronger than you... Never have backed down from the lies and torture and anguish This will distinguish who is stronger, me or you.

  Talk We have a message. It’s this, that we all have life. Have a life. No, we have life. Something was breathed into us. Something animated us into action. Playing hide and seek in the womb. To teaching the very young. To playing soccer in the streets. To working on a scaffolding outside of a megalith. To climbing the silk ropes of Cirque du Soleil. To living in a hovel handing out bread to the misfortunate. It’s about what you are doing with that life you were entrusted with. That’s what this existence is about. Respect this life. There is only one.

  When It Rains It is raining outside. She says. It is raining outside? How do you know that it is? It is raining outside. For a moment in time we decide. I sometimes stay inside and look out the door. I sometimes rush outside to feel the beads of love. It is raining outside. I want to be kissed and washed with that kind of love. Could we dance in the rain? It is raining outside. I want to run around in it. I want to jump in every puddle like I was a youth again. Well, it is just rain. The best rain is when there is a rainbow. It is raining outside.

  The Most Fun Kind of Anxiety The world hurts. What does that mean? The world can feel. It cries just like you and I. I miss your touch. I have not felt the embrace in ages. Ages you say. Ages are not your touch but the feeling of being touched. All anxiety disappears when I am with you. I love the embrace the world can give. I miss the field near my childhood home. It was golden. It only needed a few trims a year. It gave the most amazing feelings ever. Just lying in it and rolling around. Could philosophers have rolled around in my field? Could I be a philosopher? I have often found myself relating. I have never wanted something again like what I have with you. I want to lie in a field of gold again. I would share my field with you. I want to feel that embrace. I want the embrace that erases my anxiety. I need that kind of love.

  You Only Hear in Whispers Hush! They might hear us. What does it matter? If they know we are here they might take us somewhere. Come closer. Whisper to me. I’m not going to tell you to whisper sweet nothings. Or tell me anything that is just jive. Oh okay. Give me just a few minutes to get ready. Get ready for what? I can do anything with you by my side. I said nothing sweet. I said the truth. Therein lays the conflict. Get away from me. They are here. I was whispering. I am ready for all of the torment. I have prepared all my life for this day. When I wear white and you wear your top hat. Tails and dreams are all behind us. Through your eyes lies the whisper.   Just whisper to me.

  The art of Being Me Blowing out the side walls of the heart. Walking through the rubble. Examining the dust and rubble. This is not a love story. This is a renovation story. One year and many days from last November. There was a tragic accident. My heart was broken. Then I felt it would take six more years to find this feeling again. I like to believe my heart will stop racing someday. I am breaking down walls in my heart just for reconstruction. Getting ready for you. Rapidly speeding thoughts and emotions. I believe this is a manic moment. Manic moments are the best. Creativity spews from my essence. One day my heart will stop beating. But my essence, my creativity will live on in my offspring. The only thing I fear about them being me. I fear them being me. Manic, wild, creative, live wires just like me. So about that reconstruction, it cannot wait. Maybe just a moment, so I can rest my mind. Maybe I will just sip on some time.