Always

“Reality is a cliché from which we escape by metaphor.” 
Wallace Stevens

~

His home is covered in snow and he can't get inside. He thinks tonight is the check we pay in the morning. And his gray wolf is covered in white, howling for a non-existent remedy.

Imagine the light in their eyes, brightly burning out.

Now fix your self on the resolution to embrace the brokenness of awe; fix your self. And as the stranger within you silently whispers a graceful breath, caressing the tomb of your undying dream, it sends a thunderous frisson down your spine - an unfinished arpeggio chews off your vocal chords.

Now the wings of the phoenix are set afire, and the wind is hanging on these broken wires. So we sleep tonight beneath the glow of snow and night, covering cortical flow with disharmonious blankets, sweating in the darkest shades of flares and glares.

Death is upon us dearest wolf - the supernovan star we enfold within us is due. This symphony of delusion will be ending soon - and as the ghost of yesterday takes tomorrow's train, we live and die today. We live and die today.

There are no maps in this revolution. There are no bulletproof hearts in this fight.

What you thought was gone is becoming livelier than honored blood. The child returns - the lady of the lake made an exception. His astral courage no longer exits at dawn. Ocean and sky may, in the mind, disconnect, but his core remains unbroken.

Get out of my head.

Look at yourself. Look underneath the layers of deception. Look into the dark and cut your shadow into pieces of coal - and swallow them whole. I'll pour this starlight in your drink and we'll split your dark side on the brink of this dot. So breathe out these words that emulate your scent and breathe in that venomous perfume. Know that the penultimate edge is never a line. It is that empty space between rapture and insanity. And know that the essence of knowledge lies in grasping the divide between why a forsaken moment can sometimes be momentous and for what the momentous must, sometimes, be forsaken. However, in the end, you must forget everything and listen. You just need to listen - listen to the music.

[...]

The mind extends beyond skin and bone, resting on the mirage of private property, projecting scheme and schema in the form of quantum energy onto a reality it cannot understand. So you see it there, paving the broken way with purple metaphors that smell like the eternal aroma of a dying flower; the morning glory.

The heart finds what it had lost - a pen. Yet this paper onto which we're supposed to write will not cease to be immaterial until the correct heartbeat frequency is set. The frequency depends on a few variables yet it is not your job to know them, it's your job to be all of them, all at once. Until you manage to do that, you can watch the foreign lines strolling down, down the script, waiting for you to act them out.

I wanted to tell her that she needed to lose the gift wrap because I could see the ribbons of her ego suffocating her soul. I wanted to tell her that it's not her fault. I wanted to tell her that I've read that the darkness will never comprehend the light, and that I have yet to realize which side I'm on. I wanted to tell her that I figure out illusions in the blink of an eye because I am one.  I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be alright because that's what I'd learned from my favorite songs - but I couldn't because I didn't want to lie. I wanted to tell you that no matter what I say, it will never be enough. I wanted to tell you that I, too, wanted you to know that I love the way you laugh. I wanted to tell you that you are both my remedy and my home, that whether you're covered in snow or moonlight or tears, I'll be right there with you. Always.

~

“How did it get so late so soon?” 
Dr. Seuss

Rapture

"That's why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and hold it"
Eminem

~

Breathe, breathe and break
This heart, this heart,
This heart's the love you give
The love you give for blood
Your blood, your blood, your blood,
Your blood it smells and tells
Of a love you make and take
And make and take
It hurts and shakes
The beat within; awaken.

I break, breathe and break
In this moment, the moment, the moment
You capture me, capture me
Unwrapping rapture; rapture's free
If only, only you could see
Tell me what do you see?
This life, it's fractures
And in one of'em lies the key - to be
If only, only you could be - me.

You break and breathe today
Your love, it bleeds of night
It lights the way, the way
Home reads your eyes, it spells your lies
And these waves, they freeze the bay
The cove of my heart is ruptured clay
Okay, I'll play this game of gray and gray and gray - and gray.

I breathe and break twice tonight - twice tonight
And your love lies, it lies, it lies in bed with torn clouded sight
Dead still, it still beats in here, it's warm and bright - it's warm
This war is rain and it stains my plain face - a fraud
I'll face this pain they all applaud and you can take, take the storm
And I'll meet you at the break of dawn beneath the breath of dew - dew of me and you.

Break, breathe and break
Those walls, this haunted room of masks and demons
It's hidden hate that kills your freedom
It's the madness that pretends to reason
To speak ill of love, the love that broke the fall from Eden.

We break, breathe and break
Yet our flooded hearts set aflame, they'll set silence in the lake
And this grief we partake in, it'll flatten these ridges and flakes
But unbreakable vows, they're unshakable bridges - the soul awakes.

I break and breathe you in
I end and we begin
In the music of love - it's playing on your skin.

You breathe and break me out,
Cast terminal vanishment onto doubt.

We breathe together and then, again, I ask you:

What do you see?

~

"It's like I'm standing there you know appreciating God's design
And then you showed up; it's like you read my mind."
Black Star

Symphony

"Juliet loves the beat and the lust it commands.
Drop the dagger and lather the blood on your hands, Romeo."
My Chemical Romance


~

You go inside and you close the door. You drop that straight face to the floor. You shut your eyes to silence the burns beneath the mask. The stranger's whispers in your head say that they no longer recognize you. And you then wander from phantom to phantom in the ghostly castle you had built for your heart. And as the borders of reality fade away, the inner edges grow sharper, harder, darker. I don't expect you to understand. Even I barely get it. There are roads and lines, you see. And while some patterns pull you deeper into the matrix, others push you over and beyond. So, much like metaphors, we float atop the notes of this veiled symphony. And, dazzled and perplexed by the enigmatic mathematics written in its shadows, we remain ignorant amateurs copying answers from one another. The truth, perhaps, is that the answer is the question and its supposed question is, ironically, its answer. And if we keep going backward in that perspective, maybe things make the most sense.

Questions and answers are probably bound by the metaphysical noumenon underlying the phenomenon of quantum entanglement. But none of that matters, does it? Because that kind of universal truth is inaccessible to human beings. Once accessed and comprehended, it is likely to hinder our progress in the quest for purpose.

Either way, I remain in my sea of dysphoria, occasionally saved from this normopathic world by musical bursts of artistic enthrallment. Indeed, most of my words are but sublimated abjection driven toward death by this aporic void. Yet, the music plays on and I am not a fan of tight-lipped melodies. So I'll just keep adding aimless commentary to this boring soundtrack I got stuck on repeat.

Now, you. Battle this delusion of sin and that delusion of reference. Try to put your head around the coexistence of Capgras and Fregoli and after you do that, go back to your room and hang that mask you dropped on this nonexistent door. Then sing the ruins of this imagined tale, and jump and dance on this bed like an uninhibited child. For all you are is a little kid with a pounding heart bouncing on and off an old mattress to shake off the insanity. Now, him. He can unveil that graphic symphony - not you. It starts and ends with a straight line as you lie in bed both born and dead. And there in the middle, all these ups and all their downs, there you go, high, low, high, low; die slow.

Wait go back. Maybe... maybe we can jump on the same bed together. And then, when we get tired we can just, you know, fall asleep and share all those dreams we had buried in ourselves for each other. It always goes back to love, doesn't it?

It does.

So channel the dreamer. Channel the warrior. And channel the believer. Push away the confusion and silence the mind for it is heart and destiny that together one another unwind.

Blessed be the brave, the souls that run on love, with love, for love - infinitely, unconditionally, inexhaustibly.

Break. Breathe. Become.

~

"And I broke my heart in two
One for me and one for you."
Reuben and the Dark

Light

"If I could be with you tonight,
I would sing you to sleep.
Never let them take the light behind your eyes."
My Chemical Romance

~

I try my best.

What if your best isn't good enough?

But what if it is?

The walls slowly close in, aiming to crush my explosive mind. And I keep staring at the foreign paintings that decorate them, the faces of the people I love. I keep telling the walls that I can't breathe. I send them my pathetic requests with broken eyes because the words won't come out. But it's all in vain. For once you turn your back on the walls of your heart, the walls of reality turn their backs on you. Thus, still, hopeless, I remain a fan of the intensely dramatic, as loyal as ever to the wonderful realm of fiction.

Masks divide you. Dishonesty tears you apart. And the most beautiful things you feel remain inside your head. "Once a liar always a liar." "Once a quitter always a quitter." The voices lie because you subconsciously command them to destroy you. To overcome this, you must remember that one can never cheat their way into and out of destiny. Fate's hand floats around your heartbeats to see which are worthy and which are failed. Will remains free though. Someone I once knew taught me that.

But the world is ugly and sometimes the people we know and love, they become forgotten memories.

But sometimes, we meet someone that restores our faith in humanity, in love, in art, in the future.

And when the past comes back to haunt what's left of you, you find yourself just staring, obliviously flooded with thoughts of surrender, with ending credits flashing. "No, hold on," she says. You see a young soul masquerading as a veteran warrior, telling you that the love in her heart can fight off your demons. She hugs you, pushes you and starts running, leaving you with a gentle warning, "if you don't get up and run with me, you'll never know what happens in the future." And as she runs away from your gaze, you see a whisper flowing through her smile, "our future."

Life is full of surprises.

If you haven't met yours yet, I really hope you do.

Now, look around, after you close your eyes. Those people you love so dearly, are they not worth the pain?

Do not stand your ground as you face the storm. Run instead. Run toward it with weapons of heart and soul. Fix your eyes on the mountain you wish to climb and charge. Run with faith and conviction and you will find that they are the perennial wings of cosmic resonance, smoothly extended from your skin, mirrored in the light behind your eyes.

Run and know, that most storms are made-up ghosts. And though some are future dreams disguised as endless nightmares, you still need to keep your eyes closed wide open, because those details are divine.

We live and die in love. And a fall into shreds today is a chance for us to pick up the right pieces, the ones that can make up a whole that won't break tomorrow.

The music plays on within you, no matter how many doors you close.

Live on, dear friend.

~

"As we fade in the dark,
Just remember you will always burn as bright."
My Chemical Romance

Tonight

"Questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart."
Coldplay


~

Once upon a lie, in the land of grand delusion, our story ended the same way it began.

How easy is it to break eternity?

Stories are lies we tell our children so they can, in sleep, embrace the night.
Stories are lies we tell ourselves to artfully conceal the leaks of sinful pain.
Stories are lies we make up and believe because the world is too ugly to be true.
Stories are lies we hide behind to avoid witnessing the dark death of light.
Stories are lies we break beneath, beneath that broken grin.
Stories are lies we breathe in and through, as they steal heart, soul and hue.
Stories are lies we write, sing and paint, while they erase every heartstring and bond, and drown both voice and color in the damned abyss of a tainted imagination.

Stories bleed so beautifully. They try for so long to keep up the act, that game of pretend we call fiction. Yet all they do is breed illusion atop illusion. They try to make you believe in a false reality they cannot really sustain. Words are just words, aren't they? And stories are just stories, and "what's past is prologue."

So consider this anything but a story. Call it an exposition, clarity, anything really. The label doesn't matter. Only the truth matters. So here goes.

Tonight, we drink to celebrate the murder of love. Tonight, we lose ourselves in foul smoke to re-experience memories of abandonment without having their anxious background music striking at our nerves. Tonight is intoxicated with despair. Tonight, all rhythm and rhyme are lost. Tonight, the mind wanders away and never returns. Tonight, the soul simulates the last landing that destroyed its heart and swears itself into a vow of eternal hatred for the fall. Tonight, the past comes out as flowing vomit cursed with the sweet taste of death, the death of Magic.

So rewrite the fleeting moment
That lost you in its lines
And decompose the melody
Which bleeds beneath your sighs.
Blessed be the painting
Of dark and ancient signs
And blessed be the heart
That lied to all its lies.

Once upon a truth, I told love that love was you. It answered back with an empty echo, a toast for the night of burial, a perfect ending for a perfect lie. You see I've always loved your voice, even when it said that our stars were dead.

Once upon the end, you found the title for our story,
I don't believe in you anymore.

~

"This is the hardest story, that I've ever told. No hope or love or glory. Happy ending's gone forevermore."
Mika