hell aint a bad place to be 

play it as a soundtrack.
just do it.
.................

i write that in english, just like i would always write to you.

mainly for the same reason - it's easier for me to hide. it's like standing next to myself.

easier to judge this fuckhead next to me. no that it is the same person. allegedly.

well.
the reason i'm here again is... huh.

maybe just because the probability of anyone seeing that is low, to say the least.

this place has been dead for some time. has a lot changed? fuck all.

and not a goddamn thing at the same time.

are you listening to that tune?
i am.
i have pretended to be brave for a long time. sometimes with a success, sometimes, for some short periods, without it.

but in moments like this... i loose. it's 4 in the morning. i've played that song in a continuous loop for an hour or so. i feel... not even naked. fucking skinless. flesh and bones, right there in front of you. of myself, perhaps.
what's left of that sodding muscle pumping blood to the rest of the system is right. fucking. there.

at your hands' reach.

you can see it pretty well.

you could touch it. rip it out. throw it on the ground. step on it. i would not mind.

it's not even hope anymore.
it's so much less and so much more at the same time.

i came to terms with the fact that it's lost.

and i didn't.

and i probably never will.

if you fuck up... and i mean fuck up grand... you pay the price. and so i will.

...........................................................................................................................
i hope you're well, kid.
you surely are.

someday we'll linger in the sun.

god, that would be nice.

there are just too many pictures of you i wish i had taken.