The song was slowly fading out
Is that what’s going on?
He’s not that sure anymore
His head is to worn
Screeching and muffled
Mouth behind scarves
The words being filtered out
Hairs stand out on his calves
What was that situation
He’s lost all sense of direction
Not sure, but if he could hug her one more time
Loud noises make her cringe
Choking on a syringe
Can you hear the white
through the air
Thin grey snakes
Slither their way into the airwaves
And mix with the soundscape
Broken glass clutters the bare soles of her feet
It’s amazing she can still speak
After all the times she cut her teeth
Small white round pale
clenched in her hands
Holding on to the one thing that makes her fight
She’s crying blood
Her tears are used up
Running down long strands of hair
Clotting the strands and ends and bends
But do you ever see it?
She’s behind walls
In a shell
Stumbled to the bottom of a well
Crying to the deaf.
You can hear your bones creak complaints
You can’t move
Muscles tighten up, and your breath grows short
Your flesh is hugging to your bones
As hard as it can, five sizes too smal
Every colour is lacking something
Everything is pastels
The world is pastels
You can hear your body groaning
Even batting an eyelid is making your flesh tear
Shed it off
Leave it in a rotting
Gooey, gory, pile of glory
That fragile body, the hindrance
Break out of it
And we might be able to touch the sky
If we stand on our toes
And grow a head taller
Ramblings in Mystery Day 1: “Needing/Getting”
There’s too much to say to begin anywhere else.
Too many things to actually begin.
Nothing is said in the end.
Fuck it, caught up in morning blues I drag myself out of bed.
My head is filled with all the thoughts about nothing and none of the thoughts about anything.
Spacing out as my body automatically does what I do everyday, eating, brushing teeth and so on and on and on.
I don’t really know what’s going on, I have no idea.
An insane pounding from renovating next door breaks through my morning haze.
I close doors, close windows, but it keeps on going.
Pounding like mad.
I’m too morning groggy to complain or even care.
I go out, just trying to push the problem away again.
At least for some time.
I shiver, it’s cold outside, mid-winter. It’s nice, it wakes me up a bit - sharpens the mind.
Though I don’t always like my mind sharp, it keeps cutting over, slashing itself.
But just some days, not today.
I get a trigger.
I slip, the snow catches me open armed, covering me in it’s cold white powder.
I don’t get up, I’m trapped in the moment that I fell, falling.
Chest pounding it’s being crushed my a steadily pounding sledgehammer.
Head clouding over. “Rainclouds are expected to move in from the WEST.”
A scorpion the size of a van stings me in the chest, the poison lingering, burning.
I get annoyed that people don’t see what is right in front of them.
Then again, maybe it’s not the right thing for them.
Even when they’re right things for me.
I get up, windpipe contracted to the bare minimum, heart morphed into Mike Tyson pounding from the inside, thoughts gushing out like a waterfall.
The fuck. Again.
I’m in a maze.
Not lost, but I can’t find my way out
Entranced in a Kafkaeqsue surrealism
That keeps me questioning if there really is a way out
Every path entangling, intertwining, into those on which I’ve walked before
I’m not lost. I know where I am.
I know every inch of every path that protrudes under my feet
Every square inch of this labyrinth etched into my mind
Every possibility, every choice
Yet the exit is nowhere near
I wander, hoping that behind the next bend an exit sign shines
Like a green neon angel, bestowing salvation
But I know there won’t ever be shine anything from any
Nook or crook of this labyrinthine mess
I entangled myself
I have to untangle myself
Brick for brick
Taking it slowly apart
I find my feet shuffling
On endless roads, down overgrown paths
And everywhere I walk in this haze
My face is worn and beaten
My mind torn and eaten by a vicious wind
Blowing, tearing, coiling itself around me
Embracing me with shivering, crushing arms
Strengthening it’s grip every time I see my mistakes
Every one of those rare times I lift my gaze from my worn out shoes
And see the right path winding off
In the wrong direction
For one fleeting moment
We’re placed here
Cliché, but for a reason
Yet for that moment, we should be like liquid: Water.
Tranquil when it needs to, raging when it needs to
Murky, shrouded other times transparent, shining
Moves flowingly and flexibly
Brings life, brings hope
Since we’re already over 50% water
… Why not?
Chew up the distortion, like water chews rocks into sand
Clear your mind, clear, shining, like a pond
Sophisticated and wild, silent and loud
Just like water.
The Door is Open
Breathe, feel alive
This isn’t perfect, but it’s were you should be
Stop digging in your canvas
When it’s clear it’s so pretty
Give me your thoughts
Let me hold them for a moment
Make you forget
Let you rest
Hold my hand, and count to ten
Your succumbing to the devil within
Stop searching, you’re not thinking like you should
You can’t set alight a fire, out there in the cold
Come inside first
When I was growing up I thought the world was fair
Then I became older and I saw that my princess was in another castle
I search for long, but I could not find her anywhere
So I guess I should fashion her from clay
Let’s do this my way!
Every little push and the thicket grows
Blocks the path
Green in front of my eyes
I can’t hear you on the other side
I feel so deaf
I can’t reach you on the other side
I feel so hopeless
I can’t see you on the other side
I feel so blind
You can’t hear me on the other side
You’re caught in this mess
I reach out but the vines wrap around my finger
Then my wrist, then my arm
Until my torso is wrapped in a prison of vines
And I’m stuck
As the words spill from my slack-jawed face
Forced out as a final move
My tongue like a desert, dry
The words stop tumbling out
I have to pry, pry,
For another sentence to say
But there is nothing
It’s empty and I’m trapped
I keep trying
I keep prying
I want to get through to you
But all I can is wait
Until the vines wither