Tell me
   When
       Did the lines
          Between
             My nightmares
                 And
                    This reality
                          Blur
                               And
                                   *Break

Discoloured lines,
               eligible echoes
of my needing to explain...

Unrecognizable syllables of
                       understanding
That I read upon everyday.

Ink so fresh when spelt out,
                   filtering my emotions.
Dripping down this slightly torn page.

Will I ever just put a line down this
                   repetition of unspoken
words wishing to bleed silently out.

If I write that last lyric, it will sing
                 wet upon this page.
Of sorrows voice, silently spoken, now vacant.

Something or nothing
What a strange dichotomy

**** your teenage dream, I swear I'm happy in between

Pressure cooker locked around
slowly bearing down
Everything, never what it seems
No one ever see's what I mean

The fat all melts away
Mixed up with productive pain
Villainy is the new currency
For the kids with blood to bleed

Tragedy sells well
And tearing of chunks of soul
bodes well
If you can't tell the difference

Between hell and high water
Drowning to toll the bell
For the next guy
When even the dead inhale

Something or nothing
**** your false dichotomy

No one is happy
Everyone lives between

Sea shore
Sea shore
Let me draw
Whatever is in my soul
I draw one line, two lines
but the sea waves
washes away everything
Whatever was to be restored!
No time to cry
Just to play
the game of impermanence
Which gushes down everyday
With a smile on my face
I draw again & again
Learning to dance
with the change.*

-02/07/2017

Reading Those stories..
Reading Those Lines with Heart and Mind…
Feeling those immense emotions…
Led me to a question…. Do I have a story!

Although a thought came saying “No”

Another Question popped up… Do I Have to have one!

A feeling came saying “ Is it Mandatory?” Do you need to please anyone or anything?

Something came and talked to me: Is it an Ego? Is it the box of “I am nothing”?… Is it the Box of “I Need to be seen”?

I don’t know!

So…Let me tell you the “No Story” of me!

The Journey of No change!
The Journey of becoming aware of my dark sides!
The Journey of waiting for someone to tell me “You are doing something!!.

“Coaching has saved you”!! with a smile and sadness i received this statement, knowing it is true!

What a waste!

It is Journey of Angry soul! Angry Words, Angry Breaths that burn this history under my name!

In My silence I build, waiting for that erupt to free me from those chains of……

“It should be right”
“It Should be Catchy”
“It should  be perfect”

……And…

I still don’t know why?

It is  A Journey of falling in love with “Profiling”!!

When Identity became not welcomed and preferred anymore!

When I resent every minute of my life of knowing nothing except losing things including myself!

By Arcassin Burnham


Heaven rewards,
people like you in my world.
for better or worse,
i will always be here for you in troubled times..


Heaven rewards,
people like you in my world.
for better or worse,
i will always be here for you in troubled times,
and even crossing lines,
you've yet to embrace this life , of loving me.
when everything is fine,
when everythings alright,
i would walk a million miles just to set you free..

i would die,
a million deaths to have your soul.
intertwined,
so that we could become one and grow old in troubled times..

i would die,
a million deaths to have your soul.
intertwined,
so that we could become one and grow old in troubled times,
and even crossing lines,
you've yet to embrace this life , of loving me.
when everything is fine,
when everythings alright,
i would walk a million miles just to set you free.

writing like

- a grocery list of metaphors

- for a cooking recipe instruction

- or some kind of

- shipping manifesto;

- let your deductive mind

- interpret its own flow

- since that's the one thing

- we don't naturally grow

- but if you put too much spice in that dish

- bear in mind

(x) it’s best served cold