fractal

I'm tired of finding out how ugly everyone is on the inside, masked by well formed features. Lights burn out, had to buy bulbs today for my kitchen, it's never bright enough, higher watts, shine some of that artificial sunshine on me.

I fall in love with dead rock stars, I let silly songs steal my soul, I let shallow humans corrode my shell. I saw another of my failures in your face.

I teach myself to let go, flat line learning curve. I've already been forgotten, share some of that release, pass it over the table and feed me another hangover and sleepless night.

I asked for catharsis, asked for redemption, freedom and salvation. Maybe I'm looking too hard for it, but I know it's right there darting in front of my eyes after I close them when I'm baking on the beach, and I meditate in my mind. Walk away before sunset, when the winds pick up and cover me in sand, tiny grains stick to my skin, walk away calm.

The first man I ever loved was a dead rock star. He stole me, set the precident for every affair I've ever had, every touch I've ever felt.

I fall in love with gestures, motions of the hand, random, fluid and languid, all the while meticuliously calculated. A great song is like being in love, staring him down inches away, the one you can't have, the one you would do anything for, and all you can do is nothing...the one you don't even know why you want. Love is nothing more than the dance around it, the product of the notes, the tone of voice, the orchestration of sounds, the kinetic energy of emotion, the force that makes you want to cry every time you hear that song - that infinite perfection of a chord.

There's something behind those eyes, something you won't let out.