Trying

To define that undefinable word. I type on the page, hit the wall, close my eyes, think of you. Us.

I can tell you how I get there, but not where I'm going. Laying here with you, waiting.

How high the mountain is, but not what's at the peak. Not impossible to climb.

What time it is, but not how fast the clock ticks. 7.

How many notes in the bar, but not the effect of the melody. 14 since we started playing.

How many goals 'til half-time, but not the final score. 5-1 to you.

What the words say in the dictionary, but not what they mean. "A deep and meaningful connection to another - person or object."

How you perform when you do the most normal things, but not whether I can reach out and touch the stage. Magnum Opus.

How your hair falls, but not how it makes me fall. Into my arms.

What I see when I gaze into your eyes, but now how far you'll hold that gaze. The clearest lagoon, just for us.

How you change my view on the world, but not what it becomes. For the better.

How many brushes of paint hit the canvas, but not what I'm painting. These strokes on your lips.

How many kisses on your body, but not how it feels. Never enough.

How far I would travel to reach you, yet never where I can find you. To the ends of the earth.

How I feel when you lie next to me, but not how you feel about me. Complete.

I can't define what it is, so that will have to do for now, until it's ready to be defined; in one impossible word.

So He's Not Forgotten

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/7635862/Dying-good-Samaritan-ignored-by-20-people.html

The world is unfair. So if you're ever in a position like that, do not be one of the crowd. If you're ever gonna be unique and stand out, make it then.

Flashing Randomers

The flash of creation.
A flash of love.
A flash of time.
A flash of pleasure.

People talk constantly about a 'flash in the pan', how their 'life flashed before their eyes', or 'a flash and it was gone'. It's a wonder we're not all blinded every day.

A camera flash, capturing a scratch on the endless wall of time. Capturing-

A flash on a person's life. Could be a car crash, a one-night stand, a clean punch to the jaw. All drawn from that-

Flash of emotion, neuron's sending nerve impulses to your fingers as they dance over another's skin like a stone on water. Water sending out ripples, flashing to their memory, building the-

Flash of your bond. A short swoop over a few turbulent days; or a long flight, over many long, beautiful days on the -

Flash of a life on the stone wall of time. Youliveyoudie. Gone, in an instant? Is your life of any consequence? After all, it's all gone in -

A flash at the end of the universe. All of time and space contracting one day, to where it all began, back into oblivion, taking every flash that has ever occurred back to it's source. Back to it's first light.

But light is more complex than the universe, or a matrix, or an equation, when you split it in a prism. It divides, into every colour of the imagination.

Every flash - of light, of love, of time - is defined by its colour.

Connections

Are funny.
Links between people.
And I'm not talking about drinking buddies, besties or bros.
I'm talking about real connections, beneath a persons consciousness.
When two peoples' souls hold hands.
That's not a relationship which is forged quickly, not by any means. A connection like that takes months, years or decades to build.
It needs to be built on a foundation of friendship, trust, openness, and often a bittersweet history.
Sometimes those two souls never quite manage to hold hands, either because one pushes the other away, or brings them together so fast that they get hurt.
The chance of making a connection with someone is often a gamble, and more often than not, it won't pull through.
But when you meet someone, who you know you'll have a connection with for the rest of time, regardless of whether you're in or out of love, you know it instantly.
A measure of that link isn't how well you work in bed, no.
It's measured by how you can gaze into the other's eyes with no fear of awkwardness or embarrassment;
By how you can sit in absolute silence with them, and yet speak a million words, and feel no distance between you.
By how your 'default' mode is with your arm around him or her.
By when you become so closely synchronized with them, that you not only speak the same, you think the same.
Like i said, it's when your souls hold hands.

Inter-Human-Network: Y/N

I sit,
Stay awake this night,
Entranced by the Plexiglas universe.
OMG.
Ctrl, Alt, Del.

Googled my soul,
On the World-Wide Web,
Threaded by the uToob spider,
Leeching/News-Feeding my brain.
Captured it? Rescued it?

Little hearts, looking through their Windows,
In the land of Seoul.
Eyes opened to humanity's Wiki, electrified.
Minds blinded by a billion Pixels, electrocuted.

Gone, is the Thought of my own,
Spawning a need to Talk.
Now a wish for a Thought, the Thought then born,
Creates a wish to Talk. A fix? Of serenity...

Did I ask you for the Key to my mind?
No. I tapped it out on the comfort-Board,
Gazed around the Vista, Queried the world.
Where are my Keys? Not in the house,
In the Mouse.

I flew,
Became aware that night.
Embraced the Universe in Binary.
Oh my gods. Even they would be contented with -
CONTROLknowledge; ALTERperceptions; DELETEignorance.

Blood Sacrifice

A rage tears up like a bull at a matador
Finally caught it's captor.
Love close as the red, yet so far.
The blood so fervently sought,

Never to be had. Too skilled an opponent,
parry-Lunge. Never a lunge, Never a chance to.
Love tattooed upon another. A slave, a deity.
Upon the pedestal, close enough to touch;
Yet too far to Feel.

To Feel. Already had a taste of the glimmer of hope
A glimmer, reflected off glass which Cuts the mouth.
Into a Glasgow smile, invincible to the outside,
Scarred. To fade but never to heal.

I will walk, away, head forever turned back
Eyes locked upon the past, on the ambush
To expect another up ahead. Expected, never spotted.
Next time, tongue retracted, eyes closed, mind closed, wounds open.

Clinical Depression...

...is a funny thing. Not funny-ha-ha. Funny as in 'That wanker was a funny bloke'.
It's funny in that it numbs you, makes you feel like doing nothing but wallow. Makes you feel like you can't be arsed to write anything more.