A ballroom gallery lined with cannons Shapes the dance to weave through a phalanx Life trapped between black and white tiles The warlord yells, demanding they advance The glimmering light only stutters Remnants of the life of the other Burned beneath the march of the undead army This is a place without honour.

The crows caw at my every move the fog of war not meant to be walked through. Desperate, in a foxhole, digging toward solitude, I believe in a god for this could misfortune never do

The snow before your grave isnt cold on my knees The marble gravestone mirrors the drift of blossom petals A swallow lifts into flight as I come to visit

I awake, (.........) a place where you are supposed to wake up. Blades of grass (....) create the crate where my body lays pending. (.......) i find myself in the middle of a field, sun warms my body without a drop of sweat, the perfect amount of heat to heal the gears in my head. (....) i observe the field breathing in and out. (.....) The wind sings a lullaby, (...) life would have been worthwhile if death decides to come tonight. Short lived is my admiration, my peace and tranquillity, life fades through my body and into the earth that is below me. Heat gifted by the sun stolen by the cold dirt i stand upon. (....) I see where I am, where i woke up. I did not choose to wake up here, i did not choose to wonder. I should have stayed asleep in ignorance, but my mind could dream no longer. (..) this field that is so pure and magical, (...) it all lies beyond a glass (......) a glass box that i cannot see, i see a world to explore beyond but i am grounded at my feet .(..........) i should be dancing through this field, floating through the wind, merely glancing at such beauty should be considered a sin. I should be exploring and experiencing like the rest of my kin, but i know of these glass walls and as so they trap me within. (.......) as if it is not my blood that i bleed. (...) as a dagger pushed into my chest, it slowly draws blood but i do not contest. (...........) . I looked down at my chest in slow motion, each frame takes a year, an eternity of time to bleed an ocean but i have no fear. My eyes reach their destination and it becomes very clear, I see the daggers creation is the beginning of the end for my time left here. A hole gushing black blood but causing me no pain, this hole in my chest is nothing but a drain. The flowing blood takes the shape of my body, rivers of life form paths down to my feet. The blood is warm but leaves me so cold, a kind of bittersweet. The glass box slowly fills but i have no hope of swimming, i close my eyes thinking of a beautiful field and begin dreaming.

I would go on to throw the painting away, it was so ugly, still the biggest Ive ever made. I wish I would have stopped me. I tried to fix it so many times, but nothing would change it something I couldnt hide.

(...........) Face of sadness and sorrow coming from her. (...) I said Im going for a walk. She said please do not leave its snowing outside youll get sick and you will freeze. I said Im going for a walk. she knew she couldnt hold me back, she said please dont be gone for long and promise me youll be back (...........)

(............) by closing my eyes (...) forget (...) and hope i wake up when the sun rise (......) like a ghostly figure standing next my life but naked to the human eye. i can do nothing but observe why did i deserve to die.

(........) but I’m addicted to the way that it feels (.............)

(..........) Im holding a key too embarrassed to see if it fits (..)

(...........) look into my eyes (.) it looks like Im insane (...) I wish I could explain how it its, but (...) leaves me to be alone in this ditch. (........) hands clenched (..) shaking as i fire into the ditch (......)

I cant go outside (......) Im no longer a fan of me (.....)

(....) i havent had luck for 2 years adn now im bleeding (...)

(...) I started praying, (...) (...) saying (...) please just save him Ill give any sort of payment Ill sit upon the pavement, Ill be poor if thats the way then. (......)

im starting to go more crazy

When no one remains, only the wind moves. The ground cooks beneath the unblinking sun, and time itself forgets to pass. Does such a world still exist when there are no eyes left to see it? Where did one come from, and where can one go? ... (TO BE CONTINUED)

The sun set (...) kid went to bed (...) morning comes but the sunrise donsnt seem to shine (...) this rising sunset (...) will be the end of my time. (...) i cry out my life as its no longer bright, theres a sun outside but it brings me everything but light. I realise the sun is the rise of my demise, And in my mind it will remain night

Tears (...) down my (...) to the paper that used to be dry (...) filled up my brush with time, to paint the emptiness of my mind (...) left behind my own body as I filled the paper with pain so i could paint. (...) lady in white next to me (...) she came to mark the tragedy (...) i kept painting away (...........) I painted a picture of a sun that set or maybe it rose, I dont remember it well, I hope it was both. so as the petals fell from the dying rose they lost the beauty i used to know and they grew to be a woe. whats left of the rose thats still alive regrows and connects with time to blossoms but with spikes on its spine. a new unsure future rise, yet im sad about the life I was forced to set behind (...)