August 22, 2004 - 8:52 p.m.
"on wednesday..
we've got to meet"...
it could be any day
so long
long as the music fills me so full
and my eyes feel bursting with this uncontainable sound that is both terrifyingly sad
and happy in a way that makes me want to sob. childlike but old in a way that music could never reach before i knew how to listen
like this.
i'm writing because i cannot speak
headphones channeling the sound into my brain
and my fingers are drumsticks
tapping out some code
meaningless
unless
you can read my thoughts in the rhythm of these notes
and none of this,
and all of this makes sense
and i want to play
to be subsumed
"but, i feel alone even when you're here"
i want to feel this inside
vibrating with every second that i feel like it's all too much
maybe that is why people dance
to act out that strange impulse to be abandoned
to abandon themselves
to find something inside
out of their senses
so deeply in them
but seemingly irreconcileable
dionysic and infected, a working out of the twisting inside...
like explosions that manifest in flailing limbs, like laughter that escapes because we cannot help ourselves.
we help ourselves by making it impossible to avoid this release.
"my neck hurts,
cause i've been cutting moons
my hands hurt
cause i cut them from you"
divorced from my reason.. i wade into a season of thought outside any recognizeable transition... not outside but otherwise.
"there is nothing i can do... but cut and think about you"
this is the melody that writes itself,.. written on the body, visibly like scars and laugh lines. i cannot hide myself.
"remember when i left you,
i couldn't say your name
or other crucial things like
'I love you' and that's a shame
... our hearts didn't come together but i saw the two collide."
and we will,
can you feel it?
there are so many questions.
"it really shook you when i said...
no one has ever looked so dead..
and in the back seat of your car,
you showed me every single scar."
and maybe this is everything i wanted to feel,
and maybe.
this is all i could say.
which is nothing.
my skin freezes as my body boils and i remember
how you like to sleep with the fan on,
while i sweat beneath the sheets.
