Drunk on ego
Truly thought I could make it right
If I kissed you one more time to
Help you face the nightmare
But you’re far too poisoned for me
Such a fool to think that I can wake you from your slumber
That I could actually heal you..
Stick your heart inside of my chest
Keep it warm here while we rest
Tell them this love hasn’t changed me, hasn’t changed me at all
As your feet cross the threshold, you feel your senses shift. The breath it takes for your eyes to discard the daylight whispers to you of what you’ll find inside. The air is dense with the musty aroma of aged cypress, spruce, and cedar, thick with knowledge riding the backs of pressed cottonwood and royal paulownia. Light dances off the spines of thousands of books lining the walls as your pupils widen enough to take it all in. Redwood and yew broken down into children’s books and encyclopedias. Stories of love and adventure file the walls in sheets of hemlock. A beautiful and unnatural forest, it gives you no choice but to step further in…
You ever have one of those life deciding moments? Someone says something, does something, an idea forms in your head - whatever the catalyst, it’s drowned out by the sound of a gong tolling. A Newtonian crash that shakes the earth, and you know what you have to do (or worse yet, what will eventually happen but not by your power). Your life has been surrendered to an almost fatalistic course of events. Like the leading note in a scale, there are things in life that demand a “tonic” resolution, and until it happens, good luck finding comfort. I should probably include real life examples so I’m not accused of “vague-booking,” but I’m not posting this to encourage interest in my life, just ruminating (and putting to use a new metaphor from my latest piano lesson).
I burned the furniture, the picture frames, all the fabric in the house.
I turned to photographs,
your voice came through the cold,
last words you said to soothe my nervousness,
“Keep one light on, I’ll always find my way”
Bluer than the blue devils, bluer than this pale blue angel,
bluer than all of my troubles, are we going to leave here strangers?