Waiting For Ghosts

Sleeping all Sunday I pray to God that he keep his distance. We keep up the famous bad times. We slander the saints and coin the frauds, we call for brighter minds and claim that silence is a sickness.

Sunrises look different from any window, solitude sounds the same from any room, ghosts only haunt those homes that believe in them.

I long for the uncomfortableness of the unfamiliar, what can be learned from losing yourself in the longing for better days. I'm filled with a warmth from my naivete, my inability to understand a mans intention to do another harm.

the wrinkles on my face bend my eyes, faded scars blend into the background as we learn the myths of the sun and regret the routines that have led us to renounce our histories.

So here's the truth (or close enough to call it that) Where ever I am at this moment, I can not deny. Whom ever I am at this moment, I cant ignore. What ever I am to become, I can not change.

every morning I wake up, I accept what will be, tortured or tempted, I have no other choice, there is no other option but to keep falling forward.

I rest my head on the biography of the past, and feel the same if my face is covered by the sun or by the rain, trying to avoid any emotion that could get me into trouble or blind me to an opportunity to learn a little more.