Remedy through paragraphed writings.

A Story by Rashid

The war is over, love has already won.

Remedy

I don't remember the last time ceiling looked so distant. A white canvas underlying the depth within emptiness. Yeah, I always preferred the sky. I am on the floor, dreaming about grass. I feel the coldness through the floor, yearning for coldness of the afternoon breeze. I am kept warm by pills, craving the warmth of the sun. Yet with the combat against the reality with daydreaming, I wouldn't dare to change you lying next to me.

Dissipation

Clouds, sky, the sun, song of the birds struggling to keep up with their flight keep you tucked in your blood soaked sheets. Memories, reminders, back stories, disappointments and mild traumas make it easier for me to suffocate in my coffin. Hell is above me, life too far within my reach. Easy to live, hard to continue. Harder to be dead, hardest to try. Expressing is a form of art. If art was a construct of desperation hidden in boredom. Life bores me to death. Death bored me into life. Make a choice already. Am I just a boring poem to be read for care or a song that is bound to overstay enough for you to be able to jump high enough to reach the sky with it's beautiful clouds, a setting Sun, and occasional cry of birds flying because they don't know any better?

The Battle

A battle for centuries, not in time but in mind. One to start with until one is left. May death never stop you. To learn to shove one needs to be pushed. So look alive sunshine, you got great responsibility in your hands, and with all paralysis that has hit you don't let what you wish for to take over your hands. Break away, break down, breakdown. I want to hear when you're having a breakdown, because whenever I hear you I want to break down.

Substitutes

Sometimes I wonder how I got where I am, and of the time I have lived for as long as I did, I feel like who I am today, and who I was before this, you were running in cycles with my life. When you were there I felt everything. Love, Fire, Happiness, Fulfillment, a Mistake, Regret. I tried hard to get back. But once you were gone, I needed someone to fill that hole, maybe I didn't realize at the time but none would ever be you, or even feel like you. But I was always naive. Thinking that I have got friends, while in reality I was trying to heal the wound that you left, and maybe all of them were twice the person you are, but I'd be damned if I didn't say you were a gunshot and they were a bandage.

And when you would come back, those people would be gone, you'd take me away yet again, you'd c**k the gun, I would see only a hug. And the cycle would continue, and you'd eventually shoot another shot, and I would be again on the streets finding a substitute.