Sometimes, words flow.
Precise. Unyielding. Capturing the essence of the mind and the beliefs of the heart.
Other times, speech fills up space, taking up space, a mess of sounds, sewage clogging the pipes and drains. Unyielding.
What fantasies do our minds create, for ourselves, for our lives? Is my fear of being captured and bound by the pen and paper, the sounds and notes which draw me? Or are my mind and talents nothing, afraid that upon capture I would be deemed unworthy and released, to forever stare longingly at the star which has moved on, tossed away by its gravity. Do I stay unreachable because the answer may be too painful to hear?
Coward.
I did not know yet that these signs which I ignored were the truths I already knew.
This is a narrow train of thought, a structure I can’t break down
Will I only know where to go when you are gone?
Long ago I lost myself, and now I’m Frankenstein
The compilations of everyone else’s desire and design
A poor imitation and a wretched mask
The glitter and the music, cheap and brass
You see behind my pomp and dance
Just a vacant lot hidden behind the shiny fence
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