death through progression
sometimes all I want is to crawl into my music and die. not even because death is what i long for, but just some permanence. I want to stay wrapped up in what i feel, what they sing--the passion they drown me in. in the end, it's really everything, love, and hate, and blood, and laughter. and it's safe.
i feel this anger drawing tight inside me, and it's not just anger, not just a violence of pain but a discontent on a wholly personal level. i feel it in these words. i feel it in this noise that pours through my head at too high a volume to be healthy at too fast a speed to keep me sane. this music, this beat, this rhythm, this passion turning me inside out and all i can do is grasp at the wisps of ideas. catching bubbles in hot little hands is easier.
through gritted teeth, i find and scream this truth. too loud to make my neighbors comfortable. but i'm cut, bleeding on this page of notes, sliced open by words impaled by thoughts, severed by guitar strings. it's death through progression, but it's all still fleeting, when i want to hold tight to this strain and that bar, when i need more than anything to own that idea. to just believe.
by: Rebecca 444
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Saturday, May 31, 2003 @ 6:38 PM











