The first sound spoken into the void is the hardest to hear
Convince me that the silence isn’t trying to wound me
The pond of the past casts an awfully familiar reflection
Let me wear it on my face
Picture me like a poster
I am the unfinished project with no deadline
Co-created by every blow I’ve ever taken
Cast me on the wall from a film projector
There are pieces, fragments and frames missing
The roughest of rough drafts
Acoustically working it out like the tuning of in instrument
I don’t write about anyone real anymore
Not that it really applies
This probably should’ve been three separate notes
But am I better than the words I’ve already put on paper
This one track mind is off track this trip, kind trippy
The bassy beat reminds me of nights I long forgot
New landscapes & old habits
Nights notoriously nostalgic
Spotlight of starlight, hello insight
Coast side blazing
Ocean swallows moon
I’ll be fine soon
I lost those thoughts miles ago
Distant communications have become a little more distant
Relatability is a crutch anyways
Me against myself against the world
This community feels more like a con
In it for the long run, last breath breathed
Same shit different cliché
Make my peace with the rubbish that I wrote
Just gotta hold on till the last note
Young heart breaker / but only breaking my own / your thoughts and prayers mean nothing to me now / and yet I still stand with every rising sun / my knees have never been the same since
My creative conscience is a killer / let’s not be drastic / wrote two pages and I’ve got no words left / the art of existence consumes me / wreaking havoc on my insides / wreaking havoc on my insights
Peering in on realities more magnetic than mine.
The feeling of entrapment is fairly fictional.
But I acknowledge that I am,
entangled – ensnared – captively confined.
The bearer of bad news personified.
Apologetic in tone,
in self to self sessions.
I haven’t been thinking in the shower lately.
Non-commitment is reaching new heights.
A crisis of creativity.
Though that all means nothing now.
The window is open…
Straddling this rock formation, I am now apiece of art
Riding it like it’s a goddamn rhino
As masterpiece and I get swallowed in shade,
I see distant island tips illuminated, beauty highlighted
Wash me away with the coming rain
Sink me into summit soil like a sunken statue
Have my concrete form replace one of the moss ridden boulders
I came, climbed and collapsed for a clear head
– Clear head gains some new meanings –
Oh shadow of mine, let my thoughts be as defined as your crisp outline
My balance has been lost in the motion of the pendulum swing
It’s time I moved on and stopped gazing at horizons,
& instead found a way to meet them
It all ends like it started, sitcom style. Cycles fittingly coming into focus – play me off with an unsung theme song. Time tossed with a stir-fry of emotions. New mottos fashioned from old taglines. Carefree cryptic correspondences. Don’t dwell in doorways.
Don’t dwell on the past, present or future. Wait, that doesn’t sound right. But it sounds awfully close to what I’ve been doing lately. I’m mixed in the collateral damage now and wearing it like a jacket. Foggy mountain summits seem like metaphors. Magnifying glass for the inspiration.
I’m writing on paper that’s older than me. Is this what you waited your whole life for? Was it all worth it? I’m sorry to drastically disappoint and use your purpose for this. Each pen stroke staining your existence. I guess you and I are in the same boat. Sailing, sinking, apologies flying like the water we bail by buckets.