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.
Saturday, May 31, 2003 @ 6:38 PM