They asked us if we could leave...

"you looked behind you to smile back at me
crashed into a rack full of magazines..."

...Though I'm sure you'd remind me if you had to. 

I don't sleep with a new girl. I'm quite happy with that. And my friends approve of her, even with her being good for me. She doesn't put too much stock in the Bible, and has such a dirty mouth. I like that about her. She's awkward in some certain situations and not very artsy. I love that line. And it's such a comfortable love for sure. 

I listen to music to tune out my thoughts. Memories of last year keep flooding my mind more and more. Trying to figure out what it all means. Why the brain and emotions function the way they do. I'm not faking any smiles. She has flaws, but that's what impresses me. It's a fine line between being misanthropic and social. But how do you face yourself and look in the mirror every morning. 

I roll with the punches for now. I learn to wade through the waters of sea-foam green. I learn to catch the tears falling from heaven and fill my cup with the morning dew. I emerge into the new order a succubus, a political vanguard with colored opinions and tainted speech, skewed view and irrational decisions. I pick the first one and cast the stone in hopes of creating ripples that will change the world. If there is a heaven and hell, I don't belong in heaven. I'm shy of the hours needed to graduate to the ranks of the angelic beings. So I stand at the door and cast stones at the windows, hoping to entice a maiden to grant me entrance. I ride the music wave to the heart of this world and watch as the ripples permeate all that is good. I combat the darkness with my soul and my silence and stand as the only beacon of hope and light. I permeate your thoughts and wedge my life in subtlety. I can safely say I'm in. I'm in.

I don't want to be a pen by which history is rewritten. I want to guide no man to the promise land. I just want to turn the thoughts off and drift into the seeming oblivion of the androids who do in fact dream of sheep. The safety blanket of all that is innocent in youth slowly slips and the silence is deafening. It is a cold space which chills to the bone. 

We're lost. All so utterly, inexplicably lost. We focus on the small and we worry about things that do not truly matter. Compare us to our ancestors and surely we are no worse. Yet we are better of in every regard, fail to realize this though we do. So block it all off. Shut it all off. Reboot this machine we call earth and give way to the new generation. But do so and forsake the beauty. The majesty. The elegance and the gift like no other. To do so would be righteous. Yet to do so would be the travesty of eons. 

The drugs that rot our minds offer the brief pathway into the otherworldly of which can only dream of. The escape is damnable. Do or do not, there is no try. Yet in trying we do and in doing we enable. And in enabling we only further what we know is not right. And in furthering it we are simply driven to do not. But how can one do not and waste what is supposed to be given. The dream is ever present, so effervescent, so out of reach. It walks in the shadows, behind walls and the curtains, it is the noise on our windows that disappears when we search for it. So what is one to do. What can I do. How do I live and not waste my life. How do I know I have lived a good life? A fulfilling life?

Music. Music. It's all about music. It's the thread that connects and separates. The flowing liquid guiding our paths while we watch on and wonder. Can't remember, what went wrong last September. Though I can. I am reminded all the time. And yet in my comfort my memories haunt me. They race through my mind and I have lost the power to turn them off. 

"I sleep with this new girl i'm still getting used to

my friends all approve, say she's gonna be good for you
they throw me, high fives"

I prefer profanity. A dirty mouth is the cleanest mouth. It is the one most true to itself. No pretenses. Just being yourself. How to be yourself? What does that even mean? Do words even really have any meaning? Is there power in the man who does not speak but observes? Is the age old adage no longer relevant in our time? Is he a fool now who does not speak though he knows, and he how does not know but speaks a hero? A gentleman of the highest regard. 

The sea-foam green permeates this moment. Filled with a yellow undertone and a blue hue. The more I think the less I think, the less I know. My mind melts away and my thoughts take their own form in the void oblivion. I no longer seek approval. For your opinion I do not care. It factors not into my equation. The purple onions dance in front of the pink unicorn pony and as he jumps over the rainbow his white horn explodes with the mindless numbness that is so sought after. It calms the people and the nations rejoice in his love, his compassion and his care for them. They are but ants, clothed in their burlap sacks and riding their waves to safety as their fields sit and rot, yet they thank him. They praise him and call him Lord. Our God they say, you have freed us from temptation and have given us the promise of the eternal. This world matters not for someday we will get to ride your rainbow in the sky and sit by your side. All the while, he looks quizzically and fails to comprehend. Was it all for him? Was his the glory? The eternal and everlasting? Did Thomas suffer for his sake? Why? 

"You remember the house on Ridge Road 

told you and the Devil to both just leave me alone.
If this is salvation, I can show you the trembling.
You'll just have to trust me. I'm scared."

Are we all just a lost cause? Do our words fall on deaf ears? What's the price of four little souls? The price of the magician is a burden we shall all bear! Just lost causes. Music and lost causes. It goes and drives the earth as the spine chilling shrill permeates our ears. They go on. They march and like ants fall in line. They follow the line to the bottle of hydrochloric acid which burns them all, their flesh mixing with the smell and the putrid stench an acrid cry for help. Yet they march. They leave no comrade behind. They march like without a head and wait for the great salvation to overtake us all. The comrades watch as we all fall down like a brick house of dominoes. 

"Oh, please don't drop me home

Because its not my home, its their
Home, and I'm welcome no more"

For now I am found. I stand above the ocean and watch the foam collect. To die by your side, all of you, well the pleasure and privlidge truly is mine. I am doomed to watch you and you me, and I will watch you until my eyes no longer hold their sparkle, and defend you with my last breath. But no longer will I be me. We gave up that right when we were raised. I go. I live. I learn. And I fail. And I wait for the light before being cast into the hell I believe not in. I am the light. Are you? I will never go out and I will live on forever. For I am not a solitary soldier. I am one of a million. My generation shall prosper and fight on. I am an antique in an ever forgetting world. There is a light and I am it. 

The city is burning and we are all trapped. So we dance. We dance to the music. We will never leave, even if they ask us. For we must dance to the music. The music compels us to dance. So we dance and never leave. It our own personal hell after all. 

And they say we are lost. No my friends, we are not lost. We're just dancing to their music no longer, but to our own beat. I dream of Katy Perry. I think I should know how to make love to something innocent without leaving my fingerprints out. I am an everlasting hunter. In a moment like this, clarity is visible. And the meaning of life is before us all. So we drink to kill ourselves. 

I'm not your knight in shinning armor. It's time to go our separate ways. I won't regret I'll just forget. I'm through letting this torment me. No longer will you be a monster underneath my bed. 

We have come to the end of the ride. Which way will you go? Personally, I'm going North. Follow the migration of the birds and watch the sparrows collect on the birch. To see them is to be alive.  

I hear what you're saying, but you're missing the point. So before we cause a problem could we solve it instead? 

I'm dreaming with a broken heart. But I am awake. 

Rose in hand, I step outside.