writing a book, brainstorming, work in progress:

there are moments when you feel like a robot, and you can tell yourself “well i don’t need to have feelings; the world will go on whether i do or not. anyways, this is strangely comfortable. i’m okay with this.” because everything can be thought. and if it can be thought, it can be pulled apart and understood. and in the moment, feelings seem almost like an evolutionary vestige, a peripheral sense.

and there are moments when you’re having fun with people you enjoy and you’re like “well this is fun. so i can just turn it off and on when i want to, because experience is fun. emotion is fun. so i guess that’s how i’ll use it. lucky me, i’m human and i get to experience, so maybe that’s what it’s all for.”

but then there are times when you can feel it. there are times when you realize that even if you don’t think about them. even if you can lie to yourself about them. even if you can, on some level, control them, they’re still there. all that depth, is something that’s always been there. and sometimes, you can feel it. sometimes everything else is torn apart and you’re just left with this raw sensation. as much as you want to avoid feeling so vulnerable, just a little too serious, a little too real.  you almost don’t know what to do with it. it’s bigger than you. all your senses, all your mind, would do anything just to run away from it all. so what do you do? express it to the world? let it go? rationalize it away some more? 

so yes. i see it now. deep down, it’s always there. sometimes when everything else, all the constructs of your mind, are torn apart, you know that’s when you find yourself.

and he just tears me apart.

a ballroom on the third floor of a warehouse

single chandelier

a heart of gold He is made up of back alley things.

so many words have been written about streetlamps

i wonder what it is about them that makes us wonder if there are beautiful things

sometimes, when i am old, i paint

this is it? nothing more? he said. how empty. how terrifying. how horrible.

sitting in his armchair, eyes shut, as the futile colors danced in his mind.

a void of sadness filled his atmosphere.

no. she whispered. how beautiful.

and then he was the colors.

and then he danced.

from nothing, came a flash of something.

she disappeared.

i’m in love with a lady who flies among the stars. against the night sky, i am always looking up…

she will always be a traveler and i will always be earthbound.

sometimes people like her just can’t take people like me, to the skies.

sometimes it’s just that easy.

the same way a winner must sometimes lose to learn.

maybe to learn, a loser must win.

You really tried, didn’t you? You tried to be magic. But you’re not. 

You’re not magic like the other kids. You’re made of nothing but earth metal.

You sat, and you listened, and you practiced, and you tried. You really, really tried. Tried, maybe harder than everyone else. You went out of your way to find answers for yourself. But in the end, none of it worked.

Sometimes your brain tries to tell you that it’s not the end. If only you tried just a bit more. But you haven’t even gotten past the most elementary level. You haven’t ever gotten one spark. The others have far surpassed you. 

You can’t find it. You know in your heart of hearts that it is empty. There is nothing there. You are not of magic.

Maybe you’ll find something. Maybe you’ll find something that all that earth metal can do. Maybe you’ll find some use for yourself. 

Maybe not. Maybe all you are is earth metal. An accidental remnant of some ancient chemical process that otherwise would just sit there in the ground. Except you are all too aware. You are alive, and you can do nothing. Your thoughts and dreams are a beast within a cage, a stallion thundering against the walls of an elevator as it rockets up forever.

But hope. Maybe you’ll find something. Maybe not.

All you know is that there will be no one to tell you how. When you find something for all that earth metal, you will smile alone. You will weep alone. Maybe you’ll be happy.

You will tell yourself that it is okay to be lonely. Maybe it is. Maybe it is okay to have no home. But it’s always a bit uncomfortable, in a way that is hard to describe. Not unsafe, not painful… just a bit unsettling. Maybe, lonely child of earth metal, this feeling is your home. You do not feel at home in it. You only feel as if it is who you are.

a week into the madness, he smiled upon a cloud

i woke to him in silence when the light was not too loud

there was a certain rhythm that beat for us a song

i asked him for the secret door, he said to sing along

.

i saw her look me in the eye but all i could do was blink

the feeling too strong not to rest upon, not a thought was left to think

a rough blanket it held me over the night, clouded a head of thorns

ain’t nothin in the world but a leather jacket to rest my head upon

.

he laughed into the liquor, that spilt through the midnight sky

he held a cup of radiance that held the golden high

a sleepy song of country words and my face upon his shoulder

a dream a dream it was all a dream tomorrow it was over

.

i fell in waves of silence, soft syrup to never untie me

i would never learn to let him go, in dreams he’ll always find me