The ongoing fight with the voices inside our head
to unify, to make a sound recognizable to our ears
to magnify each other, in unison.
The dream:
Our voice was completely and totally captured.

It came in the form of a brilliant light

Looking out the window, eyes drawn to the light
I was floating, free from the bounds of flesh

Something was holding me up, perhaps it was
the possibility of falling that fell away from my mind

There was something below me
something all around me,
something all around.
The light was coming from somewhere
It wasn’t just coming from me.

I looked around
and saw no one,
but felt something.
recognition

I knew that no matter where I was, I was always there
back in some corner of my mind, there was a light
and I was crowding around it.
And I wasn’t alone.

I didn’t hear the sound
and neither did he

But we live for the glimpses,
the correspondence
and welcome it when it comes.

Bathed in the silence I have never been more happy to fight.

Sometimes it feels like I can clear the gap
between where I’m standing and where I’ll end up
and that’s when I want to jump

I want to feel the impact of my body
falling through the air
Slipping through the seconds
The rush of the wind coming out from under my body as it hits the surface of the air
And then leaves it

With only the whisper of me, not my name

I want to share my secrets with the land that gave birth to me,
and get lost in the space between–
completely suspended in this beautiful energy
I could fly forever.

I could plunge the depths and never have to worry about coming back up for air.

Something happens before the storm

A calm frenzy

Impatient and welcoming, a visitor too much hoped for,

Mother, who nurses us with her tears.

The animals roll over, call out in song

We claimed the land but we still do not know

The secrets of the sun

The bitter cries of the wind penetrate the empty space in my brain with

echoes

Thrashing against the branches of all those who dared to reach toward the sky

Those who sought shelter never felt the pulse

Of a night, restless with unsatisfied desire

And still hungry.

Caught in the rain, like we always will be, we wait for the water to fill our shoes

So we can keep walking

We never closed our roots to the waterflow

We need it to grow.

When I’m alone and stripped, I peer around to meet the permanent gaze of the faces on my walls. I find myself in a pretty awkward predicament, despite my current state of loneliness, but I can’t help but surrender to the accusation… that they’re really watching

Every song is compromised by the inevitable anime music video

        ….and everyone knows it’s true

The element of the song
Slide your fingers along its cratered skin,
fantasize your precious illusion
Appeal
Dig your fingers just below the surface,
Just enough to get a slight grip:
Give your nerves a feel for its hide
Slowly peel back the first layer to see a hole in the exterior
The coarse web clinging like hell onto its remains-
unscathed by the separation-
hopeful that they might stay in tact
But at the same time begging to be picked apart
To give you just a taste
A taste of something new, something familiar.
Make it yours.
And you do.
You put it in your mouth,
the melodics bleeding onto your eager tongue
Leaving you with an overall sense of..

Bitter towards a world who can’t drown in the confusion of silence

I see your lips move, but what are you saying?

We continue to dust the food toward the edges of our plates,

Just as we always do,

Excusing the lack of communication

Because there’s everything to talk about

                                And nothing to say

We are on two opposite sides of the spectrum

And trust me, I would do anything if only to bridge the gap

But live with the knowledge that I can’t.

I’m only human too.

 I like that sound:

The sound of moving forward,

the sound of the space bar.

For the past thirty seconds, my mind bore witness to a frightening sight, proposing a landslide of epiphanies. This is a new concept to me. A bunch of grown men and women, waltzing around in tribute to Johnny Mercer. So joyous is their crusade to honor and remember this individual. A plastic wrapped transvestite plagues my mind. I am subject to his tush wiggling.