Why do I need music? What’s so significant about it? What is it about the

rhythm that increases my heart rate? Why is it so soothing? I’ve noticed that I

can be a million things at once. In music I live. In the lyrics I survive. I couldn’t

imagine life without the beauty and art. As the headphones reach my ears

and volume rises to the max I drift off into a land of intoxication and off

track betting. Betting on life. I drift off into melodious quietness. Peace.

Loneliness. Temporary paradise. 

Someone else’s pain is running through my head. The headphones,

bo-guarding the entrance of the pain. Forced to listen to the trials and the

solutions. Forced to stop thinking about myself. Forced to listen. And it feels

damn good to be on the other end of the suicide line. The 24 hour help line.

I’ll never forget what music has done. It was there for me whilst I had none.

Why do I write? What's so significant about it? What is it about the

pen that increases my heart rate? Why is it so soothing? I’ve noticed that I 

am not a great musician. In music I live. A dream world. So in reality I write.

In the stanzas I breathe. I cannot imagine my life without pens and notebooks.

As the pen hits the lines and my mind drifts on deep sea waves and fairy dust. 

Wishing that I could stay cramped in my mind for eternity. I drift into an

ink smelling peace. Quietness. Light and dark. Temporary paradise.

I can release the pain that runs deep in my veins. The pen opening the

gates to freedom. Probed to speak the truth. Probed to find the center

of my heartache. Probed to determine and accept what issues are at hand.

It doesn't feel so good to be on the receiving end of the suicide hotline. The

24/7 help line. I'll never forget these words. These words have been my ticket

out of pain and into tranquility.