You go down a skate ramp, to go down, but all you do is pop up the other side.
What's this mean?
That you try to change but all you do is go down a path that seems right just to pop back up the same only someplace else. That's one interpretations that sticks out to me.


I'm changing to who I use to be.
Or so I try.
I'll never be him again.
But I can get close.
To change that means, less contact maybe.
Keeping more to myself.
That's what I want.


Or maybe my interpretation could come true.
Skating always helps.

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Listening to the vast silence, and starring tranquil ,luring purple skies takes a toll after a few hours.

He slipped away to the mysterious world of dreams. Never a constant occurrence for him. But tonight of all nights the night that he left his home because of all such reasons. He had a dream...


Awaking in his dream, he was sitting in a chair, in all white array pf clothes.
White dress pants, button down shit complemented with blazer and cuff links. No tie.

His hair tied back so he could see a heavenly cloud landscape with a mystical white light behind the cloud. As he sat he began to ponder, shortly to be interrupted by a presence, a light that's strength grew with great intensity then a figure formed. A familiar face he'd seen this face thousands of times, in all shapes, sizes, moods, times of day and appearance, but this was her finest. She glowed with an aura made it seem as if she had wings, it didn't matter if she did, she was heavenly enough. He was suspended out of his chair his limbs limp. As she opened her eyes everything seemed still, but motion was all around her long flowing wavy hair continued to flow, and her gown still draped past her feet and blew around in her own presence. Everything else stayed still in the immense atmosphere, except his mind and eyes, they saw everything in slow-motion. The current moving though his blazer and shirt he smirked.

She began to take a seat but with no chair.
Instantly a great blindly flash and there was a lavished chair she sat in.

"You get a fucking throne and I get a little wooden piece of ..."
In an uproar of musical notes and light the wooden chair formed an identical thrown for the boy. With a leg rest!
He examined his polished white shoes.


He shifted his eye up to meet the angels.
The angels meet his stare.

"Heather..."he said with a witty smile.
"...splendid job I must say so myself."
The angel returned the same witty smile, "why?"
"Hmm?" he replied.
"Don't get smart, why'd you run away?" she snapped back.
"Think I know...if I did we wouldn't be here in Heaven? Is this Heaven anyways?"
"Hmm not quite, but it does give off that vibe," Heather took in a deep frustrated breathe in relaxed. "and not true."
"Oh rly?" He asked with a raised brow.
"Yes, we need some catching up to do." She stated intently.

For hours they discussed about life and death of him, mysterious habits going around, odd documents, what held their future for them. As well as, what lead up to this. Bits and pieces of past to fill in the puzzle, stories from their own view.

Hours later Heather looked over her shoulder, "Sun is raising, you'll be on your way now."
He smiled to cover up the sadness of leaving her, "All righty then..."
She saw his sadness, "When are you coming back?"
"I don't know." He answered truthfully.
"Are you even coming back?"
Same retort.

They got up from their thrones and embraced each other.
She whispered "Take care..."
"I'll be fine...you're the one still with them."
She couldn't help but smile.

The same blinding light grew between them.
As it grew near blinding "Don't worry about your clothes love!"
"Why not!?" He screamed over the sound of a massive waterfall the light produced.
No answer.




He awoke.
He sat up and looked around and saw his spare clothes gone.
But he still was in the same all-white attire.

He didn't believe it.
He put his wrists together, and he looked at the cuff links.
"Fuck you."


He looked up at the orange sky, he lifted his left middle finger and shook it at the sky. "I love you too Heather..."

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