Carousel - Where Have You Gone
I don’t think I’ve listened anything else since I heard this.
Source: soundcloud.com
Reprimanded
Thoughts reprimanded in fear of rejection for their distorted view of reality. Far flung from reality yet it all seems so vivid. Unhinged from the world we occupy but always just a few steps away. The supposed absurdity is a figment. A last ditch attempt by the unrelenting fear to distort your vision. Until it’s a muddled mess and it’s reality is in doubt. And it’s existence is in question. But lingering desires loudly say otherwise.
Humility
Our fruitless search for perfection in a world drenched in fault. It keeps our heads twisting from side to side unwilling to miss a detail. For fear of missing out on the infatuating treasures that roam our dreams. Our search blinds us, to the truly fascinating relics lying under the faults we are all waist deep in. Yet we search on wearing our soles out, grinding our pride down. Leaving a trail of the blood of our grand ideals in our wake. Illuminating a path to more humble creatures.
New MGMT!!!
Clarity
Outlandish ideas, impossible hallucinations, illusions of truth. All obstructing the clarity we seek. Intoxicating daydreams painting extravagant ideals none could ever live up to. But blind hope drives us on, further into these hallucinations, further into these dreams. Until they seem palpable and clarity is a forgotten ideal. But they never last. In one moment your perception is slapped around and the infatuation ebbs away. Leaving a dreary eyed dreamer, awake in a room of reality.
The destination
Broken mirror shards line the hallways leaving a trail to some unknown destination. Where we could sit for days watching the sun set then rise once more. Never failing to return after each departure, never disappointing. But the trail could take us anywhere. To a room infested by dark shadows of what we are. To the edge of our sanity. To our end. Or we could stay here where the mirror shards only reflected our smiling faces, where the trail is little more than a distraction. Where the shadows remain behind us.
Overcast Skies
The overcast skies scared us. Into a state of inaction, where every potential motion screamed of future disgust. Anything could be above the thick layer of clouds blocking our view. An impending fiery death. A beautiful sun we may never again witness. An empty void. The face of the truth we all sought. It could be anything. But we will never know until the sky clears. Only our temporary paralysis could keep the possibilities alive. But as long as it remained temporary.
Consumed Light
The soft wisps of darkness felt cold to touch. My hand instinctively pulled back but I reached forward once more. Aware of the cold but uncaring. They drifted through the air draining the light as they passed. The light vanished into their depths never to shine again. Still I stretched forward, my hand entering their misty exterior. The heat drains, my skin pales and my muscles numb. But further into the darkness I stretch till all the warmth has been sipped away, till my muscles border on constricting, till I can grasp the consumed light.
Meaning
It seemed like an eternity since we’ve been trapped in this eerie box. News trickled in slowly the first few days but eventually ceased. Now we were alone, and all that was left of our proud history. Preserving our knowledge should have been enough to keep us going. But as the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months its importance faded. We all became burdened. Our actions felt vital to our future and any mistakes we made would either banish us to the graveyard of time or severely damage our fragile future. We all buckled under, our knees crumpling from the unfamiliar importance we now carried. This burden paralysed us. And for months we crawled along unwillingly dragging our history behind us. This could not be all that was left for us? To preserve ourselves so others had a chance? Why must we continue in the face of insurmountable odds? We had no future, here or anywhere else. The younger ones never shared our disdain. They seemed hopeful, unaware of the lack of meaning we felt. They did not know what we had lost. And without the eternal pangs of longing for a world that was gone forever they could persevere in this terrible box. The storm would pass, the climate would normalise but the new world would not be fit for us shackled by our losses. It would be theirs to thrive upon, to do what we never did. To find the meaning to continue when we never will.
Willis Earle Beal - Evening’s Kiss
Source: soundcloud.com
Stars
My nights are long, cursed with clouded visions of starry skies littered with beautiful explosions. Each explosion signalling a star’s death. Another light out. The sky dims until it’s a desolate sheet of darkness. And in the wake of the beautiful explosions their ravenous clouds spread across the sky in brilliant streaks of fiery red, consuming every inch. Their beauty fades replaced by fear. Of their approaching blaze. But the streaks never burn their way down here. They remain in the sky and slowly dissipate only for new stars to emerge from their debris. And the cycle repeats and my sleepless night continues.
Daze
Hazy days spent aimlessly wandering the streets, lost in a distant daze. Blind to the seemingly endless stream of open doors, unaware of their creeping close. Haphazardly strolling the streets until you reach a dead end. When all the doors have shut. And the daze has passed. When the days are as clear as they used to be. And all the shut doors become evident.
Exhaustion
There were days when we could lay here in the lush grass for hours. Gazing at the stars dreaming of what lurked behind them. Today the grass has been replaced by charred ground sprinkled with ash of origins we’d rather ignore. War is a funny thing it makes you appreciate these little moments even when you know you could never experience them again. I could say they refuted our attempts of peace but in all honesty those attempts were half-hearted at best. We were surely bold to land in someone else’s home and proclaim peace while simultaneously claiming their land. The human quality of vengeance was not lost on them though no matter how not-human they may be. Shortly after they demanded we leave and in our pride we refused to back down and war broke out. They swept us back and followed us home. But our resilience is one of our most valuable traits and to this day we continue to hold them off and fight back. My views though, mean little, in the grand scheme of war one soldier’s opinion drowns in the sea of cheers for our supposed ‘self-defense’. But as I continue to fight this endless battle I can’t help but gaze at the stars and reminisce of the days when they held little more than lifeless rocks to be exploited. War is a funny thing, exhilarating to defeat the evil conquerors but disheartening when you realize you are the villains.
Scene
It’s all an elaborate facade. A flailing taunt to hide the cracks beneath. Until it’s all that can be seen, till even from the depths of the cracks themselves nothing else is visible. And then the scene will be complete and this can be just another entry in the long list of credits. But only the audience will be fooled, the cracks never seal they just dig deeper. Till their indistinguishable and amidst all the fears and disappointments lies a mishmash of truth.
Long Nights
Sleepless nights extended by fuzzy hallucinations of things reality could only dream of. We roam the foreign darkness, map in hand in search of those things we lost and those that slipped out of our grasp. Scouring the landscapes and the open sea in a whimsical glee. Cherishing the unbridled freedom from past transgressions. Then reality crawls its way through, unwilling to be forgotten, unwilling to be ignored. Till this all disintegrates and I sit up, alone and unable to sleep.
