Now there's trouble in our voices

When humanity fails me, I turn to words.

Split images. Thousands of eyes. One heart, no perhaps maybe two.

I can’t quite tell over the sounds of blood drowning my sorry lungs.

Alien faces. Solemn expressions. A somber mood.

Their stares are made even more frightening for under the splinters of broken solid glass, the world around me gives way to a million different fragments.

Like a kaleidoscope. But in this wreckage that would be impossible.

No, impossible.

Dead skies. Whispering clouds. A loud silence.

But wrapped gently and warm, under the tranquility of the dark night, I swear this was the most beautiful of days.

Despite the numb cold bodies, despite this distorted vehicle, I feel a strange sense of calm overwhelm my senses.

Grubby hands. Darkened pupils. The tax collector’s servant.

Then the spillage of loose change - my change- across the floor stirs me awake.

Our eyes meet briefly, momentarily, before you break off and salvage your loot.

But the pain only now registers in my foolish heart.

And a scream so raw and tangible breaks through my throat.

As though the flesh off my spine had been skinned, savagely pulled through the weak opening of my bloody mouth.

But that does not bother you.

And neither do they stir.

For in the dead of night, i am lulled asleep to the sounds of soft dripping.

From my open skull to my broken feet, it flows, gently meandering past the curves of my body.

Drip. Drip. They sing to me in a lullaby like that of a church group choir.

Silence. ( Drip. Drip Drip )

I need to write. It’s like a sickness I can never cure, a sickness i welcome to infiltrate my bones. My very existence. This catharsis and emotional purging, I need to get out or I fear my thoughts may consume me. Deception. I hardly considered its evil eye fixated on me, controlled by you. What’s there to fight over? What’s there to compete with? Because surely a bond would serve us all better in the worst years of our lives. But to each his own.

 Your entitled to your own opinion ofcourse but getting solid facts before you spread fumes of deceit seems a tad more appropriate. It’s fine though. I can live with this. Its just such a shame my mind is weak and susceptible to irritable fuckers like yourself. I’d love to say this does not bother me in the slightest bit or perhaps even that it changes nothing. But what use would it be to deceive my own self when I am what I truly have. Mankind is sick and perverse. They are selfish and ruthless, ignorant and unpredictable. But I’d like the ravel in the fact that I will not be drawn to that side of humanity. I know who I am and I know what I’m capable of. I’m not a competitive person and I do truly give a shit about the people around me. It’s just a shame you dont feel the same.

It’s a fucking shame that your so high up, deluded in your talks of grandiose and pompousness. See from your castle all of the world is closed off and sealed. Your guards they have no tongues. No faces. No voice. Because the sounds of someone else irks you. The sight of humane qualities repulses you. Maybe it’s because of your upbringing or the values you grew up with. But then again I refute claims that parents teach their children to be spiteful venomous snakes who put their own success ahead of everyone else.

But why then does my weak mind teether over that simple memory? I think it was actual pride I detected in your face but under bright lights and surging anxiety I really can’t be too sure. But there you were standing in front of my face, silently spurring me on with hands held up capturing the very essence of our work, of my soul. And in that moment I swore I counted you a friend. A real one perhaps even greater than a mere school based friendship. Why then am I further from the actual truth ? I’ve learned to stick to the oldies, they never let you down.

Maybe it’s the circumstances or even this nation so consumed by the endless rat race they neglect the permanent impacts they leave on the youth. Strange now I feel that maybe the side effects of Thatcher’s policies could hit closer to home then I thought. Self- sustenance.

Yup I definitely see it.

Just stepped a bug. Not sure if this is real life foreshadowing, but I’d be damned if I let you crush me when this goes down. Your my fight. But then does that mean I’m just another statistic? A victim of societal constraints and rigid government policies ? I fear I am becoming what they want me to be. I fear I am already their marionette and the strings I have already dutifully handed to the puppet masters, to control and distort.

A morality tale. One I am clearly losing. And that sickened image of your gleaming face staring up at me runs over and over in my mind as I try to figure out what you mean to me.

Nothing.

That’s what I have to tell myself.

Why is it that whenever I leave a group gathering the loneliness and anger and fear inside of me amplifies ? Why is it that I feel the most alone and outcasted when I am amongst close friends ? And why dont my smiles ever reach my weak eyes - they never light up. I never knew the death of a friendship could leave such an impact on me but ofcourse it has. So until the numbness and indifference weighs in, I’ll spend my nights drinking wine and string out to a barren broken field we once held close and dear to our hearts.

SO done with this shit hole school. 

SO done with their stupid self proclaimed expertise.

THEY dont know what talent smells like.

I hate losing familiarity.

”” I was challenged to write a song about social justice for a Pepperdine University songwriter showcase. The words to Heavy Heart, Heavy Hands came to me almost immediately. The song personifies justice traveling through neighborhoods in our own town, and desiring to fix the pain he sees. His heart is heavy for these suffering people, but like many of us, his hands are heavy and he can do nothing. “”

And it begins in a circle this thing called fate

Something i have no control over, something i greatly hate

In cold we shiver, our voices they mate

Sweet sounds our ears collate, music we all create

And then the circle it breaks and forms different shapes

Ones I’ve never seen, Ones I’ve never made

But it does not matter to this thing called fate

For bonds have been tampered with and made into paste

Helpless I watch as what was mine flee from chained gates

And flow they shall with merry little gaits

” What’s mine is yours to give and take, What’s mine is your to make your own” yeah i dont buy that shit

It was in the porch of a pretty chalet that i realized all of which I would be missing. And in that dread awful silence, i walked to the back where the sea was framed by tired and heavy clouds. It was there that i realized all of which I would be missing. And from the solemn silence that engulfed my mind, you could hear fits of laughter behind me in the pretty rented house. But the sea, it was so calm. So quiet like it was watching my every strained fragmented thought. Overhead eagles swam in loose circles of even looser air. Watching all of earth as they enjoyed the sanctity of staying far far away from us. Of being untainted with worry and regret and fear. They were stripped of all weak human emotions. But there I stood fingers clutching aged wood as I stared intently at the sea and it stared vacantly right back at me. 

The choices we make lead us to the paths we take. And next year its a shit load of unfamiliar faces i have to stand by. A shit load of new faces I have to tolerate and learn not to resent. And the hallways and dark staircases will be the only ones who understand how things used to be. They alone hold memories of meetings with faces so familiar and bright. And when I pass those very hallways I swear I could hear our voices all merged into one. I could hear out footsteps as we ran away from trouble, away from anything that gets in our way. We owned everything, we were afraid of nothing. 

But here I sit having nothing written to my name. Nothing but memories already fraying at the seams, already loose at the edges. And its here that I will sit straining my mind for just one more second of their voices, just one more instance of the stupid things we did together. It is here that in time, i’ll come to know I will never get them back, never relive them. 

And it is here that everything will fall right out like frightful grains of sand desperately trying to cling on but eventually falling down to the hard cold ground.

Whats in your head ?

I wish i knew the answer to that one all the time. 

What I do know is that confusion flirts its tight circles around my weak head. My mind is no longer mine. I dont know what I want or what i need.

Two circles merged into one of unfit and wrong proportions is that what i really want ? But i have no choice for they have met, their sides touched and their minds opened. I have no choice but to not show it in my face. But they are so vastly different. One a reflection of who I used to be and one like an open book to what I am. Nothing makes much sense anymore. And they wont understand. They never do.