It's a one-hundred and eleven
yard walk to the gas station
for a fresh pack of Spirits and
a new lighter. Black this time.

I'm about fifteen miles away
from you in the literal sense
and separated from you for
roughly two months in mind.

People talk about my cigarettes
because they claim to be free
of fillers and additives. Sure.

I think the package is pretty
and they feel nice on my lips.

They burn pretty **** long
and they give me a hell of a buzz
but once I'm down to the filter,
I still have to move to a new one.

I woke up one day,
the sun had gone away.
While the moon
was nowhere to be seen.

In the growing cold,
the ice was gaining ground.
While time was growing old.

soon there would be no-one
to remember what had been.

The lines in the distance,
join into one.
we're heading to the
vanishing point.
If we disappear;
maybe it would be
a better difference.

Awry this earth's become,
frayed by changing fiction.
Dreaming of what,
once never has been.

Sold as a vain token,
for an declining return.
Fortold by our history.

Soon there will be no-one,
to tell of what was seen.

The lines in the distance,
join into one.
we're heading to the
vanishing point.
If we disappear;
maybe it would be
a better difference.

We're those people
who hated Earth
its hurricanes, waves,
and miserable beauty
So we made our own
farther from it
I had always loved you
to the Neptune and back
although it's quite freezing here
we liked cold things
I feast on them, while
you devour chunks of
stardust and blackholes
I had always loved you
to the Neptune and back
even though I'm dying here
and you're that forceful wind
sweeping tears away
without such passion
and you liked it
I was Neptune itself
unable to destroy the ice you
casted on me
because I myself couldn't
unfreeze myself through
the warmth of truth

I never knew I needed it
I never knew I needed Earth
I never knew I needed home
That was never Neptune's
arctic stones

Every time I wake up, I open my eyes.
I scan my room seeing it fills with my stuff;
my guitars, my desk, my mirror, my books...my pain..

Locked door, shut windows, absence of lights.

As I scan through this sad dark room with trapped air from
days ago gasping for freshness while I was fine with
carbon monoxide filling my room every single day.

I feel safe when I'm in my room.
I feel safer when I lock the door to my room.
And I feel even more safer when I turn off the ******* lights of my room.

I'm not alone.. No. I have people. People in my room.
They are shadows and darkness and they try to be my friends.
I rejected them. I rejected them since the first time I met them.
But when things are falling and my ground is shaky,
They come scrambling for me and tell me this is the time when they come in handy.

I hate myself. I punish myself.
I punish myself because I let them in.
I let them control me.

My room is like a dead party.
When I leave,
my room literally becomes empty.
When I storm back in,
They were waiting, stretching their ugly, rotten, dark, arms
to grab me and my poor ******* soul.
******* on my energy, my happiness, my only source of joy
out from my mind, my body and my soul making me feel
so ******* tired.

And when I am tired,
I lie.
I lie on my bed
Feeling half dead
as I bury my face on my pillow, sad.
I try to sleep..

But I can't. I can't ******* sleep not even a minute.
Not even a second. Not even when my brain begs for a little rest.
I am so sorry brain but I don't know how to make it stop.

And I wonder and keep on wondering,
My room needs help.. or maybe I need help?