muy bien dicen que un artista hace de cualquier lugar su escenario, sin llamar mucho la atencion en aquel parque Summer empezo a cantar sentado sobre las ramas de un arbol

-Days seem sometimes as if they'll never end
Sun digs its heels to taunt you
But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same
Rises the moon
Days fade into a watercolour blur
Memories swim and haunt you
But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke
Rises the moon-

con calma se mecia al ritmo atrayendo pokemon salvajes quienes parecian bailar junto a el poco a poco atrayendo un pequeño publico que descansaba bajo la luz calma del astro

-Oh-oh, close your weary eyes
I promise you that soon the autumn comes
To darken fading summer skies
Breathe, breathe, breathe
Days pull you down just like a sinking ship
Floating is getting harder
But tread the water, child, and know that meanwhile
Rises the moon-

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=5e1zT7miep8&si=D7t-JQcgHB6jVTiN

Memories of Tokyo [au 26,]

Akihiko Sanada

I feel so much lighter like a feather
With you off my mind, ~
Floatin' through the memories like whatever
You're a waste of time, ah!
Your signals are mixed, you are bitch ~

Christmas Night.
Day ???, nobody cares.

Christmas used to mean family, noise, lies wrapped in warm lights. Now it means distance. I walked away because I finally understood something most men are too weak to admit: not everyone deserves to stay. Some of us poison everything we touch.. and I’m one of them. So I left. I left my blood, my brothers, the memories that still burn under my skin. Not out of fear, but because staying would’ve been another way of destroying them.

While others raise a glass to peace, I raise mine to control to keeping my violence far from the people I love. The cold doesn’t hurt half as much as the thought of going back and breaking everything again. There’s no tree tonight, no forgiveness, no songs. Just a man standing guard in the dark, accepting that sometimes love means walking in the opposite direction.

If this is Christmas for a man like me, so be it. I’d rather carry the silence, the rage, and the loneliness… than let my world bleed again because I couldn’t stay away.

I can hear the voices of the people I miss in this final song.
Lost and faded truths of bygone memories,
hidden deep within my corrupt body.

All the incandescent stars of heaven will die at the end of days,
their gentle souls given to damnation.

All those sweet little dreams, buried deep in memory until the very end.
All their pale, fleeting dreams belong where the truths are hidden,
until they fade away.

Jax Memories,
21/11/2025.

>> If I had a Gun… - Noel Gallagher’s

There’s something heavy about watching a year come to an end… like every day that disappears takes with it a part of me I didn’t know how to hold on to. Sometimes I look back and feel like I lived too fast, left too many words unspoken, too much love unprotected. And that weight… it hits harder when the calendar runs out.

Closing cycles was never my strength. I always stayed a little longer than I should, always waited for something to change, for someone to return, for the world to give me a break it never planned to give. Some memories don’t burn anymore, but they don’t heal either; they simply exist—shadows that follow me when the road gets quiet.

And yet… there’s a soft, almost human kind of melancholy in watching a year die. Like life whispering that, despite everything I’ve broken, there’s still a chance to do things differently. Not better… just differently. At my pace, with my scars, with my absences.

Maybe that’s all I can ask from the road ahead: a little peace in the noise, a moment to breathe without feeling like everything I love is slipping through my fingers. And if that peace never comes, if the road stays rough… at least I’ll know I tried. That even a tired soul can find a small corner of clarity before the next cycle begins.

Because in the end, that’s what I am: a man still moving forward, even when the past is heavy and the future hurts. A man who looks at the end of the year the way he looks at a sunset—with sadness… but with a quiet hope that maybe, tomorrow, it’ll hurt a little less.

For surely, Someday,
We'll be together once again
I know that this is not the end,
We'll meet again, some way.

And somehow, Someday,
I will repay the love you gave,
My memories of you will never fade.
I'll find a way to you
Someday.

|| Si no me ven activo es que estoy jugando Outcome Memories... aunque igual hace poco termine de jugar
(soy el Sonic Gotico de la izquierda)

Sometimes... my mind drifts, carried softly into the haze of a distant memory.

But I am not a child cradled at my mother’s breast.
I am adrift—suspended in glass—
while silent men gaze upon me with wonder.

If these are not my memories...
then whose dreams and memories am I living?

https://open.spotify.com/track/5mtn7y4mfApt5gM02PRWVz?si=c3227479984343f1

Midnight Memories.


God… if He exists, turned His back on me a long time ago. Or maybe He was never there at all. Maybe I'm just the echo of a broken will, the son of a cursed fate, written before I could even walk. I've searched for meaning in a woman’s arms, in the smoke of a gun, in the roar of the road… and all I found was emptiness dressed up as purpose. The future isn’t a promise — it’s a sentence. And if there’s a divine plan for me, then God is a cruel poet… and I’m His favorite tragedy.