Stories,Stickers and Stamps

   A place where time stands still. I’m here again,this bittersweet rose garden of mine.A common fixture of my every day life. My escape and my prison.Lying in these roses of mine,embraced by their beauty and love. It hurts.It hurts so good. Thorns slowly piercing my thin pale skin. Scarlet droplets of blood make their way down my body,it hurts but hurts so good. Aren’t roses beautiful,so romantic?So why do you hurt me so?I always ask but in the end it doesn’t matter when it hurts so good,doesn’t it?    Another day, and fire spreads throughout my garden,once more. Flames swallow all in their path. My roses are slowly dying,the garden is blaze. Beautiful.Glorious flame!I hear them scream but they look so beautiful embraced in the warm flame.All around me is aflame,fire. All around me is dying and burning,so why do I watch and feel warm. It feels oh so good.    As I turn my back to the fires raging,I make my way to the favourite spot of mine, the tab...

   Here I am. Lying in bed. Collection of memories and experiences, a modern day relic.Left behind,underperforming,underpowered,left behind,forgotten.Discarded. Shell of a man. A shotgun shell loaded into the rusty old shotgun.Worn but true. Aimed,held high and shot far far away.I close my eyes and fly. Fly like the bullet to the moon. Fly far,fly fast,no looking back. Past the bright stars,past the noises and the lights. The further I go, the quieter it gets. Darker,colder,lonelier. Some stars look as bright as the sun while most are fading,dying as I leave them behind on my way.    I am on the moon. Cold,isolation,pure dark. Surrounded by the flags of yesteryear. The relics of mankind.The fading greatness of what once was. The flags are bright and slowly fight back the dark, which ultimately envelopes all around,in this dark space of mine. The darkness lulls me to sleep,it surrounds and embraces,it provides the comfort and tranquillity for the lost and weary...