yvoarioch

(...I always keep my promises...)

I am no fugitive running from reality.
I choose to combat it as a crooked straightness within my own solitary silence.
(Pure and focused, though, I am...)
Only then can I breathe and relax.
Only there am I able to write beyond the ever present anxiety.
And for that writing, one can never be alone enough.
There can never be enough silence around one.
Sometimes I think that even night is not night enough.
Not enough to be looking for something so indescribable.
So light it is always crushed by my heavy thoughts.
So tender that my enthusiasm always seems to wilt it.
Where can such thiings be found?
Let alone, how can something so indescribable be written about, drawn or painted?
Or thought of without destroying it's frame...that has yet to be built?
And once I think that I have found myself within this solitude,
my reappearance into society makes me lose myself again...
So peculiar;
How one can effortlessly catch so many other weary bodies, but can never catch himself.

To make this long rant a short one, it's all summed up in a simple word..."soulsearching"...

The "from-me-to-you" songs for the moment:
"how to disappear completely" by Radiohead
"Lovely Head" by Goldfrapp
and
"The Eternal" by Joy Division

...in dreams i walk with you...