Yes, it was more like a rush of power.

December Weather

A bitter humor in the way I speak, how could I let you leave my side ?

This could have been something amazing. I see I have changed, I see that I speak kniving wounds, I see that I stab you with my words.

I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't, but it would be so empty.
Maybe I should.

But this is me, I guess.

But who am I but a saboteur to myself ?

And let your hollow pieces walk away...

For a moment, I felt like I could soar. A grace that encompassed me, daring me to embrace it. I didn't, and I know I should have, because it was beautiful. I can rise. I know I can, because I did. Just now, and it felt magical. So magical that I felt like I could soar.

Everything is glowing, and the air sifts through the room like a dust from some forgotten realm.

I can tell where you stop and where I begin ..

A gentle melody plays, a subtle beat carries it to a graceful voice. Singing not so graceful things, or maybe the most.

Darkness pervades your music, a happiness of fulfilment and great, great failure. My failure.

A sweeping, gentle melody.

A subtle, dangerous beat.

A Tale at the Door

Soren Kierkegaard

A Cradle of Failure and a Cot full of Shame

A Great Sorrow in Happiness

A Once Friend

I feel red. And then nothing. Through my veins, sand and sea, in confluence and constant embrace. Open air in my eyes, a landscape in my lungs.