Dance!

Now I've showed you what I'm made of..

Get SET!

Elevator buttons - Turning a leaf

Slot machines - Odds

Fog - I can do this!

A's & B's in Exams - Leaving the classroom

Pros/Cons - Landslide

Feelings = Facts

Lost

Lettere beruset svinger han sig frem og tilbage; et reb i den ene hånd og en flaske blandet snask i den anden. Han er en fremmed i det levende billede som omringer hans midlertidige fristed. Billedet viser det kolde efterår, hvor rød-gule blade markerer sig på træer og asfalt. Grålige skyer sørger for at holde solens stråler gemt, mens sortklædte mennesker hastigt passerer forbi ham. Han føler vinden og dens lette regn ramme hans ansigt da han tager endnu en slurk. Tankerne og følelsen af at være mere skrøbelig end et barn forladt i et indkøbscenter, forværres minut efter minut. Igen skifter han sang på sin afspiller, og husker pludselig dén scene der gang på gang har efterladt ham spørgende. Og mens han lukker øjnene tænker han;

10
feel it
9
feel it
8
feel it
7 
feel it
6 
feel it
5
feel it
4
feel it
3
feel it
2 
feel it
1
Stop.

Det virker. Han tænker på sin selvstændighed og en lykkelig fremtid. Han ser for sig et billede af den mand han gerne vil blive. Men billedet har desværre en glitch, som gør at hvert 3. sekund bliver lykken erstattet med et billede af håbløshed. Han ved ikke om det pinefulde 3. sekund, der slår en knytnæve i håbet, er noget han kan kæmpe imod. Alligevel vælger han at tage sine boksehandsker på og se hans modstander i øjnene.

Ascend

Earthquakes terrorizes the ground
Medicine cannot heal him
Substances fail to numb him
Distractions are mere breathers, but it always lies beneath

Oscillating between strength and despair
From his grave he begins to climb
Though his viscera may be decaying
He sets to atone his heedless crime

Pontus' Pearl

Thoughtless aristocrats masquerading as thieves
An unforgetful love camouflaging as hatred
The pending cloaked as their past
Inevitable betrayel hidden behind a trust
Unspoken words masked as honesty

Secrets in disguise

It's just a countdown

Can't see a future. It's as if every second, good or bad, is just leading up to me giving up.

A Glass of Wine

The smell of clay, a starry sky and his favourite bottle of Bordeaux.

He taps gently on the dusty glass, creating a slow and repetitive melody; a motion soothing the jitterings travelling in his bloodstream. Looking upwards causes him to chuckle momentarily, his head shaking in disbelief, though with a smile he finishes the remaining of the red wine. A comfortable woven blanket is spread out on the cool ground, and as the rain begins to fall, he puts aside his glass and lays down, curling up while clutching to his denim jacket.
Soon after; the wet dirt is covering most of him, leaving only part of his jacket visible aswell as his few belongings, but in the morning the ground appears to have repaired itself and he's finally gone.

Beautiful Filth

It's the first day of summer, may is nearly over and children run around on the abandoned concrete road, passing a leather ball to one and another, they seem to be blissfully unaware of the molden stench beneath the light green lawns. Daffodils can be seen spread all over the neighbourhood, peaking from all but one of the gardens, like a disease.

He walks past the yellow painted house, circling a sharp corner and stumbles on the uneven pavement.

His left foot falls into the hole of a missing cobblestone and he stops abruptly to regain his footing, though quickly he continues walking towards the old wooden entrance.

And as he arrives he observes how the white fence is protecting the house; hiding behind a beautiful bright garden, displaying flowers in colours more rich than anything he had ever hoped to imagine, and even scents oh so pleasant, almost spellbinds him to fade into another world, though fortunately he remembers his purpose and with a fast movement he opens the creaking gate.

A deep exhale calms his chest, his gaze becomes drawn to the crackled red painted front door, blurring all other surroundings. A moment passes, he blinks and sees his feet are now standing on the top step before the main entrance. The man is puzzled for a second but reaches down in his backpocket, and finds a small paperwrapped box, he takes a step back down, and places the fragile box on the top step, resting it against the door. Dimples show as his mouth spreads into a hopeful smile, while a rosy colour embraces his neatly shaven cheeks, and as he turns around, his pulse races as if his heart was attempting to escape his body.

An itch creeps down his left arm, just as he closes the gate behind him. Maybe this time.

· · · — — — · · ·

The tide had crept upon him,
All too soon, he felt.
Delicate sand had buried his puny ankles,
Bound him to the sea.
Frantically he turned his gaze; searching.
His eyes glistened with a desperate plea, for the sight of hers
And a distant silhouette,
Barely visible to the naked eye,
Disguising the woman's features,
Showed only a blurry layer of her fair polished skin,
Though she certainly approached his pathetic state,
To his regret, he knew now how, their eyes were never to be met.
Devastated with sorrow, he quietly offered his farewell

"Yes or no?"

10, 9, 8, 7...

"Yes or no?"

6, 5...

"Yes or no!?"

4, 3, 2...

"Decide!"

1...