Stories Untold

You try to predict your future.
You try to create it.
But you never know what will happen.

Walking around in a deserted city.
Not a soul around, just you.
Seeing the abondoned buildings.
Empty houses with doors still open.
Cars left in the middle of the streets.
Everything silent.
Not even the wind makes any noise.
As if the world would be scared of something.
Just sitting there, quiet, waiting, hoping not to be discovered.
But you sense the cries of the others.
Tormented cries of the other people in this world, the world of flesh you're forced to share.
And only in this place, your own world, you can hear the cries.
Even though you thought it was quiet.
Desperately you tried to convince yourself that it's silent.
But the cries got through.
Through your barriers.
Through your walls of cold feelings.
You tried to hate it.
Tried to hate the things that matter.
You tried to forget.
Closed your eyes.
Shut your ears.
But it got through.
And now you hear it even in your mind made safe place.

And you start to feel it inside you;
This is the world all of us live in.
In our hearts. Abondoned by the world.
Fearing to share a world with someone.
You create your own, only for survival.
But in time, as the cries increase, it'll all catch up.

It'll all fall;
Your safe place.
Your silence.
Your money bought peace.
Your worlds will die.

See me as a child.
Just picture me as a child.
Then put your hand on your heart.
And answer me honestly;
What do you see?

*MÅNGA, MÅNGA CENSURERADE SVORDOMAR, OCH VÄLDIGT FULA SÅNA*

( gjorde bort mig )

Blind people say they see.
Deaf people say the hear.
Me, as one of them, forgot what light looked like.

The wars between me and I.

Closing my eyes, making my heart a free roaming place for the madman only makes it worse.

So tired.
So very tired.

6.4.07 ---

Wake up!
Wake up!
Reality is running away.
You’ll miss it in your sleep, dreaming your life away.

---

Having something to do.
Occupying myself.
Forcing myself to forget that I’m me.
Running around in a never-ending dream.
Hopeless mind drives this soul, this body.
A madman behind the wheel.

---
28.3.07

- What are you doing?
- Dreaming.
- About what?
- A reality that ain’t real.
- Why would you do that?
- Cos’ it’s better than what’s real.

---

So…here are my negatives.
My me in a darker fashion.