stendec

Wake up. It's here. It's now. I wish I could describe it to you. I wish I could find the words that would make you know, that would transfer the experience to you. I wish, I pray to almighty fucking God that I could just tell you. Words pale in comparison and I can find none that fit, none that are whole. Pieces of emotion, parts of thought, nothing but chalk drawings and finger paintings.

All my life I've felt like I'm going to explode. Any moment now, like a name on the tip of my tongue hanging by a thread. Held, chained, imprisoned and waiting. I can feel the tension building, the notes climbing. And I am down on my knees begging and pleading for that name, that word to fall from my lips like the first drop of rain. Sometimes it slips out past my eyes, seeking yours with a question none have ever answered. Like water wrapped in a tear, it looks for the ocean, and finds nothing but the desert sand.

Meanwhile I sit quietly and burn. Trying desperately to build enough heat to light the fuse so I can explode across the sky and show it to you.