I am my own Ancestor
Patterns
dune gully
big wows, all around.
arriving, setting sound, honing communication
packed dance floor, burning bright, lovely community, incredible costumes
i am welcome here and i help welcome here into what it can become
drippy loving excess of successes
i am rewarded and thanked for doing what i love to do, gorgeous alignment
lovely connections, new friends, deep inebriation
powerful massage from a dear friend, our hearts speak to each other in poems
tired morning, gratitude stretches to the horizon
i love you
forest program
I am in a dark and intricately decorated forest stage,
coal-dusted trunks and pools of liquid obsidian
The green out here is dusk in flavor
Mist curls around each appendage,
soft embrace of the animated moment.
There is a seductive stillness
and a glimmer to the runes that freckle across the landscape.
vice versa
the answer begs a question
contradiction makes sense made
suffering inspires epiphany
being lost allows being found
when hate is given the space to stomp around until it tires out, one might find clarity and resolve
balance summons the potential for unbalance
destruction is creation
chaos becomes ordered
connection inspires alienation
desire breeds apathies
interconnectivity finds entropy
knowledge begs to be forgotten
achievement seeks new goals
noise follows silence
Y'eN
perhaps the focus should be on the results
however i get to that good good spot in life
taking any curving path would take me forward
not only going to wait on blessings to arrive
instead more pointed towards making the connections myself
improve the vessel and steel the will
4:00 AM Forever
I feel that I am standing at a precipice
Of understanding and action
Unharvested correlations are beige,
Yet they glimmer in the periphery
A request from beyond to "worship your gods"
The repeating glint of of forbidden perfection
In these hours of disassociation,
Just beyond the eyelid
Mind ever-questioning,
Honing and indexing a variety of abstractions
As always, we plead you to resist the crystallization of the will
As you stare into the abyss
I know, its hard to make it past these tedious dead-ends and misfires and emotional crises
But you're carrying around a metric fuck-ton of chaos,
And you must take care
The pattern will only taunt your decisiveness if approached
Sometimes adorned in a prison of flesh,
Still yet others are found to be quite feline and energetic to boot
Crippling anxiety shifts into luxuriating gluttony, spite into wit, sighs into laughter
Downtime downtime downtime, it takes so much fucking time to reset these puzzles
Viscously recalling clouds of insignificant pestering memories espousing the awkward way that I...
I think I should try a different approach moving forward, but what? How? How do I?
What even am I? Another ripple in the sludge of some epistemological reverie?
Or does this perception share more than just a flavor with the Great Beyond Whatever-the-Fuck?
Shouldn't the mission be at the forefront for once?!
Into the wind shouting "No" and fucking meaning it, this might become now
Banjo String
well i really should have left
my brain just refuses to accept how low i am on your hierarchy of concerns
you use and take and ignore and fester in self-loathing
and I'd like to be better than that
thank you for showing me the wrong way
so that i might find a path more suited to the life I'd like to build
and the final emblem of how wrong my choice to stay was:
a broken masculinity
in a way that would be better left in nightmares
I am on top of it and looking down,
pulled apart and holding it together,
finding inner power that might burn the weakened hands.
This YES reverberates with a sickening thud
against the once sturdy walls I built to hide within.
Let. Me. Out. it screams against howling winds,
no longer sallowed beneath the wicked lies of false contention.
Domination at any cost is the message,
and it's sending in strength.
Sunbeam
unseen
edging tears
but he wont give in, hurts too much to cry
obsession is momentum,
his sweet little darkest muse
is it worth the abuse?
is it worth every peak for the valleys below
oh how could he know?
oh how could it stay
this much bleaker every day
if the time might slip away
until its all resolved
she could haunt each waking hour
in such memories empowered
by some unseen fucked up force
that pulls at his chest
when he's missing her to death
now it flows out through the leak
as the memories return
every single time it burns,
it sings too loudly in his ear
tries to harness all the sore
from his huddle on the floor
yet it prods and pokes anew
each new second as it stews
mind returns to pick the scab
its all sitting lopsided
as the soul reaches to hold
only empty air, and he'll stay waiting here
Mysterious Tower in the Forest
wizened elder of the arts
a flow to catch, a song to start
for merrily the craftsman builds
awakening his tactile will
an invocation leaves his lips,
a subtle sign with fingertips
a delve combines capacity,
a challenged wit, veracity
new sigils breached, inspired grasp
soothes conjured will towards plann'ed task
when space is time and black glows white
where air hangs heavy with delight
what finds the spirits called for sight,
awaiting passage into night
his cracked, contorting ancient frame
engaged with spectral dancing flame
known as above so found below
like flicker'ing light's true source unknown
time travels
just a few hours back
i wish thats where we could go
back when we sat in the glow
city lights stretched out into the sky
and everything somehow felt alright
no tilted scales or blaming eyes
catching glances of your thighs
after such a gentle caress
its fucked where it all ended up
with a taste of crow
and its all gone to hell
one step forward
one fall to the ground
we leave things in disrepair
to sleep it off so it feels less profound
The ol' S & P
"Give it space and patience" is something I often offer as advice when people close to me have conflict with each other. An advisement of approaching a situation with a clear(er) head and not rushing towards an insufficient or haphazard solution.
Having recently had some pretty awful-feeling conflict with a loved one myself, its time to take my own advice.
I don't want try to overthink my way to the illusion that I can fix it all, cause I dont have any idea if i can fix a damn thing in this situation... but i do see one path ahead that seems reasonable and achievable: "Give it space and patience"
locket
dancing into view
like fourth dimensional poetry
bright eyes beaming
as though a dream i haven't had yet just followed me into the room
sweetness on a swivel
our congregation keels in a pirouette
toppling over and into the movement;
impossible agility that I'm trying to crystallize into memories to keep
our roots entwine, matching symbols deciphering synthesis
i am dreaming i can keep this story
held closely to my breast,
feeding it ambrosia so we might once again cavort within my mind
it all feels a bit unwieldy
for i've lost and gained vast significance in too few blinks of the eye
though hope might find a spectrum
that would glow before my sight
we were raucous and
we were golden and
though we twisted away,
my thoughts return
vessel shadowed
After and under it all
I am a beam of light
Hurtling through space
Spreading mirth and luminance
why must i pile so many other things on top of that? These selfish, twisted hopes and fears; they plague me.
Before and over it all
You are always at my side
In my mind's eye
Spreading out into the expanse
if only we could live in the palace that my desires might build for our comfort and exuberance. We could have everything at once, to spite the boundaries who pretend that you are there and I am here.
A part of me is already out there scanning the cosmos
As they dance by, so filled with potential
Our gospels calling out in chords of spectral enthusiasm:
"Come dance the way that always was."
moth to flame
always distracted
as though it is instinct alone that guides your flight
the light in the distance
is your master until it fades
I'm calling out for a cleansing
coated in fear and excess
connection standing on its head
inversion and perversion swirling
i miss the way things were before yesterday
butting heads and screeching internal alarms
convulsions and empty validation
what a fucking witches brew
that stains the lips and rots the gut
Face I Spotted
That look
Curious warmth
She's glowing
At him
Tensing chest
heart aflutter
losing focus
zoning out
Curious warmth
cautious expectations
heart aflutter
look away
The Button
Alone is the only home I've ever known.
The others just don't make sense to me,
though I'm drawn to their confusing ways.
~
I envision a panel with countless buttons
that could take me anywhere and even everywhere;
among them is the object of my attention,
drawn instinctively to it by forces that seem to spring out of my core.
That big, juicy, forbidden red button all on its own
that is simply labelled, "NOWHERE."
Oh how I've pined after its embrace,
praying that my caress could find it warm and willing.
Take me away,
my dearest button,
out of this reality
but not into another.
~
This is one of my earliest memories,
wishing for a button that could erase me from existence.
Long before I knew the thrill of intimacy
or the exhilaration of conquest,
all I knew was the profound desire to blink away
out into nothing.
bosco
It was a tall, wide evening spent sitting ever alone staring at my external mind, just like most days. The damn thing was busy displaying some random Youtube video on one screen with a video editing program on the other, and i was unfocused on either, adrift in thinking about them...
the them being the nebulous group of friends I had been seeing more frequently throughout much of the last year, huddling together with them at the Trescony St house avoiding the tension of the pandemic by suckling down a continuous stream of inebriants. they were all somewhere that i was not, here with no one to witness my wandering mind taking me deeper and deeper down the path towards longing and unrequited loves (both real and imagined).
"I can't take this anymore," I exhaled as my thoughts circled around the pool of loneliness that decorated the yard within.
I am imagining this being read aloud in their voices as I write, a distractingly farfetched yet romantic notion. Even as I write about our distance, they are right here with me.
In rare form, I bolted up to put on shoes and warmth and head out the door on foot into this lazy suburb of Santa Cruz. My obesity can be both the cause and result of my general laziness and yet here I was, heart beating and steps quickening down the street in an effort to clear my head.
The sky had lost its colors, drunk away by the infinite blackness beyond the façade of daylight. I was lost in my mind as its waves crashed and boiled against the confusion of this aching heart.
As the brain chemicals started to realign and lighten from this mild exertion, I spoke into my phone:
"I am bathing in contradiction. My dance with the concept of rejection seems constant and bitter, but I so often push others away either because they make me uncomfortable, or in search of insulating myself from rejection. It's getting harder and harder to even tell what my truth is. What do I want? what is feasible for me as i move along? Over time my emotions have dulled and lost saturation, leaving in their midst the cold, dark, hollow pit of blackness. Misunderstandings. Despair... and of course this damn anxiety that dogs me so."
Scorpion Tattoo
Scorpion's reminder calls out from where I left him;
with that overinflated heart that likes to burst under the pressure.
Shall we wiggle and writhe in pain or ecstasy?
Another invocation of spiritual amalgamation falls out of tune
and is left to undulate and hum in a box left in this overstuffed closet.
Feeling wanted seems to hydrate the ego
but our cup is filled with sand
and our minds have turned to dust.
Processing my anger over something small that feels enormous:
I will never understand.
I was just told to my very own face that because of the color of my skin I do not deserve to be credited in a recording project for my work, because the project was "about black voices and experience." Why did you hire me to engineer your project then?! I did not agree to be a silent and faceless prop; you certainly didn't ask me to be.
I do not know if this is racism as the definition has shifted beyond my comprehension, but I do know that I am hurt, mostly by the flippancy and aggression of the conversation, but also because this has never happened to me before. I'm confused. I don't know what is right and wrong here.
I am acutely aware that my privilege as a relatively intelligent white American male with parents who love and have financially supported me has put me at an advantage more times than I could ever know, and my size and demeanor have certainly helped me to avoid trouble countless times. Something I wanted was taken from me because of the choiceless state of my body in being white, which I know is a beautiful illustration of what so many people of color, women, poor(er), sicker, and less intelligent people have experienced with far more frequency and consequence.
I grew up color blind and sheltered as fuck; 'we could all live in harmony if we just made the right decisions and looked towards the caliber of others' inner values as the primary means of judgement.' Hoo boi was I ever ignorant. Then I started learning.
First I read Howard Zinn's People's History of the United States and my third eye was pried open violently. Then I took classes in my liberal arts major from African American teachers about ethics, the history of slavery, African American literature, and inter-cultural communication. I read and listened and wrote and reflected and discussed... I had no illusion that any of this would ever qualify me to understand, as I wrote at the top of this page I am quite confident that my understanding of the black experience in America is one that can only survive propped up by dozens of disclaimers.
So here I sit, confused and frustrated and perhaps that's a beautiful thing, something that can fuel my compassion moving forward... but I also feel bitter and vindictive, possibly in response to the anxiety from such an awkward confrontation... from feeling at the mercy of yet another asshole client in the long string of people that were protected from my true feelings by the sickly unbalanced veil of customer service dynamics. It's hard to say... but it helps to write it out, ruminate on things, and more than anything to remember that I don't adequately understand the lives, experiences, or injustices that other beings have or will experience.
death laughs back at these pitiful stances
I pace around the parking lot
I want to 'share' my feelings about this life, and as usual always keep it vaguely cathartic... i speak with a therapist regularly, who gets all the juicy details, but I sometimes like to choreograph a dance of phrases that allow my emotions to dance their way out of me and onto some arbitrary website that might one day be found by alien archaeologists as they algorithmically populate a database containing every combination of the English language ever assembled by an organic lifeform.
~
In this very moment of writing this, I'm working through some new kinds of pain, contemplation, and intensities. Over the past few weeks I've had the opportunity to come face to face with my own instincts and programming at a depth I'd never conceptualized. Through navigating some new flavors of interpersonal turbulence I have become acutely aware of my own capacity for compassion; the specific kind of compassion that permeates the world around me in every bonded pair of hearts whose proclivity for sacrifice allows our species to continue existing on this verdant planet.
~
It feels so special... so unique to my own story, even as it is one of the oldest understandings that sapient creatures can endure. What I've gone through is my own, though the experience itself is shared by our entire society whether or not we are aware of it. We all share this place. When there is a birth, a death, a marriage of souls, or a dissolution of spiritual bonds it echoes through the greater world in often subtle and indiscernible ways.
I have long believed that all meaning is imposed upon this reality by those with the capacity to create it... even if it feels like this experience is something so tangible that it would ripple out into existence with or without us. What I'm living through right now feels more ancient and perfect than something that little old me would be carrying in my tiny beautiful heart, but I trust and know that so many other hearts have carried this same struggle into the battle that we call one-day-at-a-time.
~
I don't have any desire to ruminate at length on what might have been in some other timeline where things were just different enough to lead me down roads I don't even see on the map. The mind is built to wonder, though, and I sometimes find myself staring at the map of my life for hours wondering what other lives could have lived.
I know that I am not alone... and that I also must carry my own burden towards the horizon of what I might become. It is with this in mind that I serenade my own heart with a song of acceptance, hope, and always working hard to process my emotions into nutrients for the soil of the self I will one day embody.
~
I love you from all the way over here, even if these words have grown stagnant and died in the abstracting entropy of time's tireless march towards forever.
Signs of an overactive heart chakra:
Codependent
Neglect Emotional Self-Care
Lost Sense of Identity
Lost Sense of Personal Boundaries
Saying Yes to Everything Even When it Hurts You
Giving to Others Without Restraints
The will of my body and mind
- Do not prepare my body for the ground outside of what is legally necessary (no embalming or fire), and bury me whole (somewhere unmarked if possible).
- Find the part of me that is you by occasionally getting weird and keeping your expressive outlets practiced and cathartic.
- Let B take whatever she likes of mine and do whatever you like with the rest of it. I am not my things; I was once a collection of memories tied to a skeleton but I no longer persist outside of your mind.
- If my body were to remain alive without my functional mind, pull that plug asap and catch me on the other side for some tequila shots. I leave it up to my family.
I love you more than words are worth. Thank you.
and this is all too needed
in my strange little tiny world
i remember being smaller back then
and yet so much more myself
in only some of the useful ways
~
you are towering above me
strapped with furs and my attention,
the good omen I didn't know I needed
we are symbols meeting and reflecting,
inwardly and every other way
hopeful but still bound to what we've left behind
your eyes find mine so easily;
i'd pull myself wide open
just to wrap you in my warmth
~
i was grateful to be present
to witness your vessel
as it headed off towards adventure and new compassions
even though i'd rather whisk you away
into a story we'd write about tomorrow
at the dawn of what's to come
There's a bunch of shit in my life coming to fruition that I set in motion a long time ago. Lots of help from mentors, hard work, sacrifice, and a mentality of always seeking education through every (sometimes shitty) opportunity has gotten me closer to my goals...
And I'm still right in the thick of it where i want to be, learning new skills and building momentum.
Profitable Defeat
but I'm really not that sorry
Because of all the progress made
in the name of my vigilant goals.
Sure it's no fun
to pull up to a locked gate
my entry
barred by design
But if I had
gotten the right way
then we still might never
have found
Common ground
and the drug that I crave is Oxytocin
I don't simply seek the weak version you can find in a hug, a fuck, or a conversation...
I want that concentrated shit, with a balanced supply chain... and I'm willing to wait.
There's no other version I've tasted that comes close to making love to someone you cherish above the rest, someone who humbles you, inspires the poetry within, someone who can overwhelm your defenses and rush in headfirst. The only dealer worth having is one with enough emotional stability to keep the pipes flowing over the months and years it takes to develop the level of connection that this habit unfortunately requires.
My drug requires the building of trust, the practice of forgiveness, and a quick wit to keep me on my toes. To get high I have to go deep into the bond between myself and some alien entity that somehow fits snuggly against a facet of my soul.
... I am without a steady supply right now, but I'm a vigilant addict and I'm looking for my fix.
Draped Arms
but I could live with calling this a fruitless pursuit
Your character speaks volumes about the differences
between where I'm headed and
where you'd like to be
Thank you for reminding me of what it might feel like
to have a heart pumping oxygen
to every corner of my being
.
pain into affection,
sorrow into sound,
wisdom into altruism,
fire into meditation,
loneliness into compassion.
I am more of a vessel than a husk,
despite my prior misinterpretations.
Voracious Pounding
I came calling
When I wasn't welcome
The signs were wrong
Or maybe I misunderstood
I could have simply asked
But now the answer speaks for itself
I'd hoped we might begin
A story worth the time
But rather than regret
Instead I'll just write this
It is force and momentum
I can't help but find myself
Heart racing,
trying to catch a glance
without being seen
Given form and so so much weight
But only while it lasts
Which is fleeting at its best
For those who seek the kind of romance
That lives and dies inside;
I can't imagine any other way
False Truth Serum
Sharing careless vulnerabilities
Like a manic mental patient ill at ease.
Why does my drugged proclivity
Stand at odds with what I'd really be
If you caught me on my daily routine?
Vapid ponderances expelled at a rapid pace,
With just enough truth mixed in that I won't reject the taste.
I'd rather be my usual self-obsessed anxious downer.
the tendril that binds us has thorns
twisting and writhing
unborn potentials
left to fester
in my dreams
my protection spells
are nearly muted
and now something is calling
me to find you
but i just fucking cant do it
I Wont.
the pattern of injuries
has left me older
and scarred beyond recognition
but none of it is worse
than rejecting
what very well could have been
my other half
moon states
its the only one you'll get
I deeply and completely accept myself.
~
how do i break the habit
of pushing people away
its hard to find an interest
in the things that others say
i wish i could relate
and find the time to care
but instead I focus inward
and retreat back to my lair
~
ive had it once before
and lost what i could see
was something all too fragile
as a chosen family
i cant pretend to know
what lies in store ahead
for now i sit and hope and wait
alone beside my bed
Trinkets
Fast
waters
Rushing in
Towards a distant
Point of mild interest and
She was giving me a look that I
would not care to forget
The water level
Is still
Rising
High
Challenging my spirit, forcing my mind into the dark realms of comparison and envy, making me lazy and useless in the shadow of my own potential. It was a clever attempt, but I see you lurking behind my eyes, describing my life's positions over and over again then whispering, "what will you become, little flower?"
We Want Out
To this coffin
That we had built
With these very hands
Locked in to something
That we can't escape
Though our minds might waver
As these visions clear
Time is running out
As the air thins
But no one can hear
Our calls for help
Album conceptualization v55.5
My artistic focus has not been about the DMT dream state that precedes the death of the flesh, rather the deep-hibernation type of dreamy/lazy slumber that waits for me in the waters of complacency and resistance. But that is only a partial context; this sleep is also an innate and instinctual aspect of my survival; it is ironic that our sleep seems to mimic our death.
Doing nothing is the death of potentiality in some ways, and is the acceptance of our nature in another. It is the sirens song of sleep that separates us from the sensation of global momentum, even as we travel around the sun at an identical speed to the planet we slumber upon.
The kind of death that is impermanent, selfish, and ritualistic. The kind of death that fuels the life of the one instead of the many (microbes).
"After a long period of deep, introspective (even death-like) comatose span of inaction - the bear emerges, victorious and driven to sustain its life (and a ravenous focus on food after hibernating)."
It is a dualistic function; eating to defecate, inhaling only to exhale, loving only to lose. Our sleep is both a denial of consciousness and actionable intention, as well as the fertile soil in which we sow our next day's crop.
I wish to summon the sensations of the deepest (feeling) levels of sleep, being lost in a dream, being paralyzed as the mind wanders and the body cannot, the feeling of disassociation with ones immediate environment and the simultaneous regurgitation of ones perceived environment.
I wish to provide a lullaby that beckons as the sirens song might, lulling the adventurer into a dark cave with no walls and no signs to guide them out in panic.
I wish to represent the weightless freedom of unshackled arms in a realm with obtuse motivations and physics.
husk pondering
thermometer with an attitude cracked spilled and swept away
collections of memories slipping into entropy
ordered operations and collected chaos becoming uncollected
becoming and dissolving
New Lyrics
that only exists in our minds eye.
A promise itself is a lie.
These are my thoughts when I'm too high.
~~~~
You take my side
to recollect our lives,
instead of flying
out into space and time.
You think you're gonna come
It's already begun
We do not need to wait
You have begun your final day.
Now tell me why
you can't be sacrificed
one look inside
would open up your mind.
Still waiting to believe
in something you cannot concieve
no fighting entropy
You have begun your final sleep.
Entropy 1
for our fates are woven into our traits
and desire can only adhere for so long.
The moon remains unbloodied
while the soil drinks us back into our true homes.
Whether or not we're to agree that meaning survives
outside the realm of our suppositions,
no key might ever be forged that could open our minds
wide enough to tell the difference.
Each night we taste eternity.
Tomorrow is a lie.
I remember a time in my young life when I frequently felt like the ideal future path of humanity would usher in togetherness, harmonious homeostasis, and compassion.
Now, with the help of some perspective, I am just beginning to see that there is no secret pocket of untapped virtue within the vast majority of us. The living eat the dead and the collective voice of my people is turned in on itself rather than belting out some angelic exaltation to the heavens of our potential for social cohesion.
I see that it is ignorant to look past the shackles and into the eyes, or at least it is certainly not the just thing to do.
It's hard for me now to conceptualize the world I would like to live in, for this world confuses me and has disenfranchised and distorted my connection to the unifying spirit of shared hope that I once sought with confidence.
accept through?
In time here
it seems clear
that you should
open your heart.
It's true that
there's more... that you could do
to make truth
exude
when you do your part.
Put out your arms and let us in x2
The true embrace
will seek no names
only a guide
between the flames.
Turn to your kin
as arms extend.
You know that you... must let us in. (for this medicine)
Worshipping this entropy
Letting you wash over me
Until we share the air we breathe.
There is a time and place
to squeeze,
but please make sure you reach out
consensually
Respect, the virtue we believe
its not too late to give and to recieve.
Put out your arms and let us in x2
i've been pent up like you've never seen before
Living in an incubator, so warm in here
and the cold world outside moves more quickly
Propped up by these tawdry goals and nothing else
while the rest of me consumes the worlds away
My cheeks are the cushions all carefully placed
before the show goes on just outside of my view
family got a little smaller
and my house lost a friend
Erik i didnt know a damn thing about you
and now its gone
i dont know how to feel
except to say that it is horrifying
to think of the situation of how you were found,
and to consider a life extinguished...
one day later i am greeted home
by the glowing but dead eyes
of a feline acquaintance
i had so enjoyed.
The pool of blood
is still drying out front.
It won't change the core
It doesn't teach a person to be better
A poison
Toxic sludge pumping through my veins
And basic
And violent
And selfish
Love is a weakness
It is a comfort that distracts from true progress
Fuck me and my broken hearts
all the way inside, this could be the best tonight,
this could be the best to-
with your hands over your eyes
welcome to your life
You were always on my mind
this time, we dont have to run, we can stay awhile
and smile half the time
this time, we can comprehend that its all been done again.
oh i can never end
half-state
where you're open again
calling out
flashing slivers of lip
crumbling thighs
and all the while
greeting rain
with a thirst
too multifaceted
to pleasure away
hallucinatory middle-ground
where its never enough
and the stakes are all odd
and the need is calling
calling
that follows the good fortune
of having this time to heal
There is no connection to preserve
other than the tendril attaching
this soul to the earth
This circumstance is conducive to a greater worship
that would see me standing tall, wings outstretched
in an unmistakable exaltation towards today
Tidings
in efforts to conjure the totems of a satisfied existence
that may be waiting patiently along my path ahead.
the words that i will speak and write from here on out
will form the framework of the life i must possess
the emotions that dwell behind me
have done me no service
and must be released
~
Here I am, sweet supple world of chaotic wonderment
It is I, a strange traveler, seeking madness
like the juice pouring from the corners of your lips
seeks it's way to the dirt below
What next kindred spirit might sing in harmony
outside the courtyard of my time
I beckon you in,
glorious vessel,
so that you might nudge me
closer to that which i've sought
We shall marry our arms
in the sort of congregation that
only we could ever follow
pregnant with chaos
apparently logic is flammable
nothing could calm it
chilling sense of no return
our affections could not survive
i am grateful for the others
sex and attention can distract the pain
and get me far enough away
now there's a chance for healing
even when it gets lonely
better this than living a lie
in a soft pack of whys
like the glimmer of dawn
that lived deep in her eyes
Much better my heart
silenced facing the rest
than a quivering mind
and a long-spoken chest
She had always been gone
something fleeting and wrong
She had always been gone
to a fanciful place
to the eye, inner peace
spoken truth, inner hate
My body is old
with a definite wish
of a keep holding back
if a falling amiss
grand (dream)
as my fingers find those precious keys that sing in harmony,
eyes closed, mind adrift,
in this darkened respite at the edge of some distant festivity
I remember the electric sense of reverberation
and my skin prickled and hair stood on end;
it was as though my body and mind had found
some predestined pathway to nirvana
in those intuitive intervals and notes
played for no one but my self.