INTO THE UNDANCING NIGHTS
into these melancholie skies indeed. wrapping them like yesterday's christmas around my need for purpose. headphones on; scritching a static soundscape to my shuffle home as i feel so alone and yet so alive. the desire to write has me again. like a childhood crush it would have me create with foolish abandon in my exuberance. ah. but i desire some ryhme and rythmn to the rush of ruminations that has overtaken me today.
i enjoy feeling the quiet confidence of my ego. letting the slight dramatics of my body fill the stages of twilight. the sidewalk a dusty shade beneath my feet. i'm wearing vans and the purple lace that she showed me how to tie into a hidden bow has come undone, leaving my right ankle cold and naked-yea verily it swims within the decaying fabric of these retired skater sneaks. and of course it's symbolic. like everything today. this one thing occupying my mind as i swish swash to my apartment.
how like my life. swimming around in enviroments that are familiar and yet disconnected. like haunts i can never stop possessing. how tempting now to say "this sea of complacency!" as if this cliche phrase is enough to express my soul and my spirit. it's more than mere complacency. i feel almost like there is this timidity. this unwillingness to commit. to choose. to plunge. to lunge. to lust. to take. to take care of so many withering things. there is an emptiness within me.
yes i feel an emptiness. a quiet distress echoing behind my eyes. how easily i seem to break these days. how quickly i run from the addictions that yesterday's earnings bought for a few second's spillage. is this great unfufillment, these daily inperfections nothing more than my humanity? and why shouldn't i break? revel in the shatter/shimmer of my newly birthed angst?! i can confess with truth that this writing serves only to prove how in completely in love i am with my thoughts, my words, my ego.
no. there is something there. a need. a deep seated desire that i have put off far too long. it desires a name. a purpose. a destiny. i know that i was created. i was taught to believe this from the first day. but why? why must GOD design a boy with brown hair and brown eyes who loves music like a mistress and who writes metaphor laden paragraphs about his misgivings? why did you create me GOD? what purpose did you see for my life?
the wind is and has always been the closest entity i've ascribed to YOUR character. invisible but with a langauge that translates directly into power. i love the wind. i ache with so many emotions when it sweeps the palm trees to dance. and does my life dance for YOU? is it a beautiful and clumsy tarrentella? a spidery folly of falls? my pride. my rebellion. my ignorance. my self-deprecation. does it hurt? do you weep for me? can the entirity of GOD shed tears for the nothing HE undid HIMSELF for so long ago?
i write to GOD. but belief. what is belief? these headphones are like fists in my ear, drowning out the voices possessed in my heart. they want me to choose. to take each choice like a step into my manhood. to prepare for the future and to commit so that the future generations may know my mind and still taste the residue of my dreams. bittersweet though that aroma may be.
and still i walk away in solitude with my fingers curling like lonely children in the pockets of these hooded sweaters. delaying. denying. devouring pleasure until it cannot slake the shame anymore. i pass the whore who fed on my deceptions every day. the temptations when my wallet is full with easy opportunities have been so difficult to deny. to lie. to pull those silver-tongued phrases out for easy access to a girl's touch or a peer's acceptance. but then the emptiness! that increasingly great abyss that is left as i walk away ungrown.
and to speak nothing of the jealousy i feel. or of the tears jewelling my cheeks as i conclude this chapter. to remain silent and passive always. emtionally removed. this is what keeps me from living. and for life. this is my dream and my fear. to risk. to rape. to revere those old ideals but not to expect them so immediately! patience. my dear spirit. read these self-loving words and excercise patience.
into these melancholie skies indeed. wrapping them like yesterday's christmas around my need for purpose. headphones on; scritching a static soundscape to my shuffle home as i feel so alone and yet so alive. the desire to write has me again. like a childhood crush it would have me create with foolish abandon in my exuberance. ah. but i desire some ryhme and rythmn to the rush of ruminations that has overtaken me today.
i enjoy feeling the quiet confidence of my ego. letting the slight dramatics of my body fill the stages of twilight. the sidewalk a dusty shade beneath my feet. i'm wearing vans and the purple lace that she showed me how to tie into a hidden bow has come undone, leaving my right ankle cold and naked-yea verily it swims within the decaying fabric of these retired skater sneaks. and of course it's symbolic. like everything today. this one thing occupying my mind as i swish swash to my apartment.
how like my life. swimming around in enviroments that are familiar and yet disconnected. like haunts i can never stop possessing. how tempting now to say "this sea of complacency!" as if this cliche phrase is enough to express my soul and my spirit. it's more than mere complacency. i feel almost like there is this timidity. this unwillingness to commit. to choose. to plunge. to lunge. to lust. to take. to take care of so many withering things. there is an emptiness within me.
yes i feel an emptiness. a quiet distress echoing behind my eyes. how easily i seem to break these days. how quickly i run from the addictions that yesterday's earnings bought for a few second's spillage. is this great unfufillment, these daily inperfections nothing more than my humanity? and why shouldn't i break? revel in the shatter/shimmer of my newly birthed angst?! i can confess with truth that this writing serves only to prove how in completely in love i am with my thoughts, my words, my ego.
no. there is something there. a need. a deep seated desire that i have put off far too long. it desires a name. a purpose. a destiny. i know that i was created. i was taught to believe this from the first day. but why? why must GOD design a boy with brown hair and brown eyes who loves music like a mistress and who writes metaphor laden paragraphs about his misgivings? why did you create me GOD? what purpose did you see for my life?
the wind is and has always been the closest entity i've ascribed to YOUR character. invisible but with a langauge that translates directly into power. i love the wind. i ache with so many emotions when it sweeps the palm trees to dance. and does my life dance for YOU? is it a beautiful and clumsy tarrentella? a spidery folly of falls? my pride. my rebellion. my ignorance. my self-deprecation. does it hurt? do you weep for me? can the entirity of GOD shed tears for the nothing HE undid HIMSELF for so long ago?
i write to GOD. but belief. what is belief? these headphones are like fists in my ear, drowning out the voices possessed in my heart. they want me to choose. to take each choice like a step into my manhood. to prepare for the future and to commit so that the future generations may know my mind and still taste the residue of my dreams. bittersweet though that aroma may be.
and still i walk away in solitude with my fingers curling like lonely children in the pockets of these hooded sweaters. delaying. denying. devouring pleasure until it cannot slake the shame anymore. i pass the whore who fed on my deceptions every day. the temptations when my wallet is full with easy opportunities have been so difficult to deny. to lie. to pull those silver-tongued phrases out for easy access to a girl's touch or a peer's acceptance. but then the emptiness! that increasingly great abyss that is left as i walk away ungrown.
and to speak nothing of the jealousy i feel. or of the tears jewelling my cheeks as i conclude this chapter. to remain silent and passive always. emtionally removed. this is what keeps me from living. and for life. this is my dream and my fear. to risk. to rape. to revere those old ideals but not to expect them so immediately! patience. my dear spirit. read these self-loving words and excercise patience.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
jmand2:
i like it. nuff said.
moniker42:
I still like the third paragraph the best.