luxdivon

i used to want to apolgize, for what i knew in my heart to be right. i used to want to hold back, for all the people that weren't brave enough to understand. i used to want to wait around, for all those that kept talking like they had something real to say. i used to lay down at night, wanting something i hadn't quite said quite right. but now i know what i want. and now i know who i am. the closer i am to what drives, the clearer are the blue skies. and then it comes faster, and harder, and more blatent than before, and i can hardly deny, where the vision that i feel inside, wants me to drive down, to search out, to say outloud. i want more. and more. and more. and give more. and give and give because it gives so much more back than i could ever wish for. but its a bittersweet melody, as my heart aches, my voice grows stronger, as my legs throb, my desire grows more, and the darkness is darker, and the light is lighter, and i feel strength within myself that keeps getting stronger, because i was the worst to defeat. i was the one that had to bend down on knees and forgive myself for all the mistakes i'm going to make. and i was the one that has to look you in the eye, and to say, this is who i am. this is who i am. its not easy to do my friends. not when you want something fresh. you want something new. you want something real. and raw, and something you can see through. the deeper you go, the better it gets, and its like a fever that consumes your every breath. i guess there are some good addictions, addiction to fullfillment of your secret vision. allowing the satisfaction to seep in of having something in your existence worth appreciating. its a hard thing my friends. a hard thing. its been a chain of events of time, and people, and chance that propells me forward, into the destiny of stars and dancing to soul rhythms. i've left the world, and its so much prettier here, because all can be said. and all can be seen. all can be given, and all received. i write this as in an outpouring of not myself, but something pulsing through that is writing the words, typing the letters, giving the voice. it is my voice. but not my voice. it is the eternal voice. that speaks to all, and speaks to none. it is the one true thing.

my music