time is never time at all you can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth and our lives are forever changed we will never be the same the more you change the less you feel believe, believe in me, believe that life can change, that you're not stuck in vain we're not the same, we're different tonight tonight, so bright tonight and you know you're never sure but you're sure you could be right if you held yourself up to the light and the embers never fade in your city by the lake the place where you were born believe, believe in me, believe in the resolute urgency of now and if you believe there's not a chance tonight tonight, so bright tonight we'll crucify the insincere tonight we'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight we'll find a way to offer up the night tonight the indescribable moments of your life tonight the impossible is possible tonight believe in me as i believe in you, tonight

For MOM(kiran).

Since I can't in any other way, communicate the pain I feel everytime I think about him in the last 48 hours and how things have transpired in his life. He writes he wishes that he will get another life to live out the love that is now engaged to another person. I have nothing to say to that except that he deserves much better then the pathetic shit he has been dragged through. And that even if he gets another life I would pray that he would not get involved with a person who can't live the convictions she claims to have. I think this is much worse.

Atleast it's bearable if people come out and just say that they don't love us anymore, as it happened in one of the iterations I have been through. But this hipocrisy of claiming love and then shying away from it is the most fucked up place to be. Maybe I write this because I feel this inability to defend myself while someone is punching me in the face as they claim a lot of love at the same time. Is it love or just plain hedging against uncertainity: that scenario where one fucks around and not finding satisfaction can come back to the old "bitch" on hold? Whatever.

It doesn't matter when I burn like a comet here, in high fever as does MOM on another continent. And guitars tear through me, like bullets. Maybe this is what it means to be crucified and they who wound with one hand can't be of much help with the other.