Blessed's blog: "for the record.. most hearts break in unison"

Who's behind the wheel when your mind is racing? When do they decide to slow down? Who puts on the brakes? The worst problem about a mind that races isn't how to control the speed, it's what to do when it stops. It's what to do when you are still. How do you function then? Do you look out the windows and strain your neck to see what's behind you? Do you squint as the light up ahead glares in your tired eyes? No matter what you're doing at that moment it always feels like you should be doing something else. The opposite comes to mind and the race begins again. A well tuned machine corners like it was designed to only do that task. It sees the barrier up ahead and makes corrections for the avoidance of a disaster. There are a lot of close calls but closeness has never gotten you into the trouble that a collision will. If you make a conscious effort to keep the calls close will never have to worry about being stuck or immobile. You will never have to worry about stopping the race. You will never have to be still. This race has no winners because you're in this one alone and even though it's tiring you will press on. There's no checkered flag. You can try to fight it or you can just close your eyes and hope for the best. One day, it'll all come to an end and you'll wind up wherever you're meant to be. Hopefully, the one you always wanted awaits you when you get there. There's nothing worse than knowing they were right there on the side of the road and you passed them many miles ago.

You throw around I love yous like bread crumbs are thrown to the birds and then you wonder why you get chased away by the crazy lady with the umbrella. I feel sorry for you. You constructed a pedestal out of infatuation that in paper terms would be no thicker than cheap vellum. You glue it together with the words you speak on the first night and the sweat that pools in your back. You wonder why when you stand your desire on top of it; it falls to the floor along with you. You always seem to end up on the bottom and you always seem to stay there way too long.

You know how it feels when you're in love? Its like youre on fire and you are burning brighter than ever before. A fire can be very quickly lit but will always go out without the proper care. How does it feel to be nothing more than a step above a right hand? A comfort for uncomfortable times and once you've served your purpose youll go back on the shelf until youre needed again. There are fires starting up all over, its damn near epidemic.

The romance lead you to a snare and the boredom will be what lets you out. The bait seemed so hopeful but soon you find that this is one of the only kinds of traps that will end up letting you go in the end. Everyone has been left after one night; everyone has felt their heart get warmer only to find their body cold in the morning. It might be a few mornings and it gets hotter before it gets easy and it gets harder before it cools down. Life moves on behind you and you gotta stop wasting it on a notion. A vision leaves an indentation on your mind but you can always fill it up with something more concrete than the idea of love at first sight and at first touch you just need a reason to.

And yet... you can't see what's in front of you. What burns for you longer than any torch set aflame. You know it's there. You feel the warmth of the flame. Ignoring it like it was the plague only because what yearns for you is the same thing you yearn for. How you lust for the heat, the heat lusts for you. Reminding yourself of what true love feels like and how it hurts to lose it.

The flame can only stay lit for so long before it loses carosine. And the torch goes out indefinitly. Never to be reignited. Only to realiaze that you are scared of the dark. Scared of realizing that once what was had will never be found again. Or do you get close enough to the flame to keep the light burning. The risk is one only a true man is willing to take.

The time is 5:07am and its dark outside; it might as well be any one of the hours that exist past twilight and before dawn. The dark only has one color and it matches stains on your shirt and the shadows between the valves in your heart. You think that sleep will come easy tonight but you know that once your eyes shut your brain begins to play games. They aren’t the same ones you played as a child, it is not as easy as hop-scotch or hide and seek but you think back to that simple time and recite those rhymes that made you laugh back then. With a shot in the arms you are brought back to reality and it doesn’t look like the one you had painted with your fingers. A nail gets broken into the colors and the flesh peels and stretches and springs back just enough so that the paint can find its way into your bloodstream. Step backwards because you have a better chance of running the rest of this race with your back facing the direction you’re going. Its really the only way you can see where you’ve been. I could hold your hand but what happens when I fall, and I will fall. I'll trip on the cracks, the same ones that broke your mothers back and the same ones that are gonna continue to creep up your arms until they’ve reached your empty head. It got so mixed up inside that it became liquid and poured itself through you. It made a check through your integument system and it got so close to the surface that it evaporated after it mixed with your sweat. You sweat and you pant and your breath gets lost in the perspiration that streams down your forehead so you hyperventilate just enough to get back on track. Pain and heavy weights pound onto your chest and you buckle at the knees. You’ll fall to them and you’ll scrutinize the imperfections on the ground and the impressions in your hands. It will hurt when you break, it will hurt when you crack and pour out onto the street, it will hurt when you evaporate into air. If you’re too afraid to open up lets take a stroll over open water, it makes the shallow end seem more terrifying and more chilling. You’re fascinating; so come and wake me up and let me be enough by being what I am. You can always make me laugh at my expense and Ill fall for everything because I never stood for anything. Ill salute you but I’m running out of soldiers to raise flags for all our freedoms. Hold my heart like they do when decades go by, like they do when dream sequences make the air around us wobble. I cant stop looking into the sky, no matter what I do. I dream my world in white and color my eyes with blue I still wont shoot until I see the white and blue in my eyes. I still wont shut my mouth until I hear the faith in the air. I’m still awake, it is 5:20am...

There's a trauma station and it's overflowing with the wounded. They hold their hands on the infected areas, the ones that hurt the most. Some have trouble walking, others are seeing double, while others are having trouble breathing. They are a sorry lot to say the least, you'd think they'd triage these lost souls and help those who are feeling it the most first. Sometimes the pain is so intense that if it was gone you'd miss it, you'd wonder how you survived without it. You'd wake up in the morning and feel like getting out of bed for a change, you'd feel weightless and it wouldn't seem right. You'd want to go outside and be seen by the world. You'd want to do more than just sit in your room and write idiotic stories that make no sense. The thoughts that you wasted on her would be gone and you'd think to yourself "who was she, what did I love about her anyways, how did she control so much of my mind?" You'd of course have no answer because your tiny brain has given up on those conundrums. One more time you've had to give up on those feelings that you loved so much. You tried though and I think you should get an A for effort and a gold star pinned into your forehead. If placed right it may eliminate that last little remnant of hope. Your head used to be swimming in the blood that poured out from your heart, I mean, it has to go somewhere, the blood that is. We sure as hell can't have it pooling up in your stomach now can we. So it goes to the place that is used the least in times like these, the part of your brain that reasons, the part that looks past the present and revels in the future where it can be allowed to run the gambit again. If you ask me, it's probably living in a fantasy world, cuz you haven't given way to reason in ages. Have you ever come close to drowning in blood? It's kind of an odd thing to die by something that is such a life force. The thing is when love and hate collide hate always wins, it's almost like it has the ace up it's sleeve. I'm pretty sure it cheats to win, it's undefeated, you know something's amiss. The bouts could be rigged, that is a definite possibility, maybe love made a deal that it would go down in the first round in exchange for all the hookers in NYC. I really don't know. There's always someone in control and we all know that you are the last one who should have that honor. You are more of a co-pilot on this mission and you're still trying to earn your wings, better yet you're a passenger who drinks too much and talks too much and is just too much. Either way, we're cruising, but the auto pilot was smashed by terrorists a long time ago. They were smooth and exact and they escaped, I think we got one in the leg with our hollow tipped bullets but I'll ever know, I was aiming through eyes that were blurry. So we hired a mechanic, but he came to work high so we axed him right before first break. We soon realized that he was the only one with the tools to fix this foreign piece of equipment. The mechanic was with the union you see and they've been on strike for something like 25 years now. There may have been some scabs willing to cross but you shooed them out around the same time you threw away the manuals. It's quite the predicament. Wasn't there something about happiness somewhere amongst the dirty books and the dusty manuals in the back of your mind. I clearly remember a time when the word happy was in my vocabulary, but since then it's been removed from my mental dictionary. I made sure with the clerk that this one was the latest edition, he must have lied, they always lie to get a sale. Oh well, we can always look up words that will remind us of better times. I think we can all use a little nudge to remember those "better times". You know there's death and there's taxes but I think I'm more afraid of time. Not only can we not escape time but it can have a lot of fun at our expense. Then when we're on our death beds, we're begging for more time. Right now I'm begging for less, or for it to speed up for a change, but now I want it to slow down. The thing about time is that it is never right, it is never flowing the way we want and I think it likes it that way. I made a deal with time...let's just say the hookers in LA are still there.