That Itch...

No not the "mosquito bite on your elbow" type of itch. Not the "I've been rolling around in the grass" itch either. Definitely not that "crabs" itch. In my bones I feel that need and want to make music again. I have this deep yearning to want to make something meaningful again. To perform something so beautiful, so chaotic, so prolific...and not have it be for anyone else but myself. I don't need the whole recognition thing, it's not even about that. To be honest, if everyone forgot who I was, I think I'd be much happier. I just want to make something delightfully auspicious.

In other news, Goya is Colossus and according to Tom Petty Nirvana was like a Sickle to Wheat.

Here a Flower grows,
No sun to support growth,
No water to revive life,
No love to nurture,
No faith to speak of.
Here a Flower Grows,
against a concrete wall,
in a pile of sawdust,
with a will to blossom,
and the grit to endure.
Here a Flower Grows,
my stem be strong so I may stand,
my pedals be bright so I may shine,
my thorns be sharp so I may defend,
the life I protect on my own.
I am the Garage Flower,
No sun will shine on me,
No water will grant me life,
No soil to call my home,
I will survive on my will to blossom,
and grit to endure alone.

"Might a tempest relieve me of sound and sight.

Might I unearth the hatchet and put it to proper use.

My hand is poised and in fury.

Only thunder gives me rest

Dare me to Breathe, when I can't catch my breath, Sway my tempers balance."

And that’s where you left us, skin melting, face down in those ditches, inhaling mud. Let it be bliss. Let it be a malfunction. Hanging from the meat hooks of evolution, here’s where we reside. A statement with no validity or meaning, wrapped in sugar coated terminology just to appease our own lust for inhumanity. Your fists are all still in the air. The sky is raining shrapnel and feeding us our own intestines. As I choke and spit the blood that is now caked to this coat, I gasp, “we will all see the will of truth upon us.” Leave skin hanging from the reeds in the mire. And the sun sets to empty lungs and quiet tongues. Man is the pawn.

The Great Worm...Shai Hulud. We will all learn that we have judged ourselves from the onset of our existence. Why should the end be any different?

Nothing to Wake up to Tommorow

diving closer to the center, I grab it, the rock. I hold it to keep me closer to the bottom. In the all but still wave of the ocean's current, I feel pressures handshake. The ringing in my ears has yet to subside. Through murky water I peered to the surface and saw pounding waves and bright sun. Eyes thirst for tears in a sea of salt. Have you ever accepted death? Have you ever said goodbye? Wondered what you would have said and who you would have said it to? Thought about your last kiss? How you didn't really savor it? The light press of cushion against the warm moist object of your affection. The deep passionate pose, how seconds turn into minutes, and minutes into hours. Slowly running your tongue along the lower lip and then against her own. Allowing your top row of teeth to grasp your own lip, pulling it into your own poised mouth. At that moment, serenity is granted, as she runs her fingers through your hair and pulls you toward her. Slow. Deliberate. Breathes. The set passes, the glaze over the cool ocean water tells the story. I gasp and fill my lungs with air. I held my breathe for what seemed like hours. I went down myself and came up a different human being. So close to death. I really did almost drown.

For some reason I'm not being creative.

We never hated ourselves more, we never cared for anyone less.

The World As My Ocean....

Canonball!





Christmas is getting closer. It's one of my favorite holidays, but as it gets closer I find myself getting much more depressed. I want to enjoy it. I know I'll still be excited when I go to bed and wake up at the ass crack of dawn only to find that Santa had been there. I wish I was still a kid. Yesterday I thought about it. Legitimately thought about it.

To the dudes who kept the truth in Promises Kept...

Tucked back in the corner. That's where I lived, tucked back in the corner. Never partaking in the local extravagance. Never stepped out of the box, that white walled box that kept me prisoner. Not since Freshmen year. Not since, I felt like I lost everything. I met a man named Russ freshmen year. Opened my eyes to new ideas. To what passion of music was. To what passion for life was. I'd say he was a good friend, but he left as quickly as the seasons changed. He left as soon as he could because he couldn't live here anymore. I felt that urge. To leave. To not come back. I kept it inside. Is that what you meant when you said the fire still burns? It still burns. It still burns in me. I weaved through the crossroads as aimlessly as an animal grazes, not seeing the truth in front of me. Not seeing the world in front of me. We all age and We all die, but we are never lost. Enjoy this day, enjoy this day, let your heart be new, let your soul be free. For years I lived through my nadir. For years I lived through the lowest of times until these months when I've lived. When I've truly lived. So for those that have kept truth to promises kept, for those who have saved me from my quiet corner of solitude, to those who taught me how to live again, and to those that have stood by me, may I always stand by you, because my heart still holds true to promises kept.

Live the warmth