Ballads may not sound urgent, but they are.
They are born from an intense longing.
A raw awareness of the heart.
This may be the the most exhausting form of obsession regardless the dilemma.
And in its shallow rhythm it still screams of urgency.
My voice may be weak from the toll the hurt has taken.
My heart may be heavy and in a thousand pieces.
Still this ballad I have summoned,
Fills the distance between us like a beautiful storm.
Just as there is quiet in the noise,
There is noise found in the quiet.
Last night I had a dream.
A little boy tugged at his parent’s clothes.
“Look, that one,
That’s the one I want…
I want her.”
The girl had scars all up and down the right side of her face from cutting herself.
She was trying to hide them.
The little boy didn’t care.
He thought she was beautiful.
“Really son, her?
That’s the one you want?”
“Yes,” he smiled.
Does everyone have a soulmate?
Is that why I feel so alone? This emptiness is heavy. How can a feeling of nothingness feel so full that my heart just might fall through me onto the floor? I cannot recall a time when I physically felt my heart hurt. Not like the interpretation of ‘heartache’ expressed in cinema, or the word we attach to a feeling so carelessly at times, but an actual affliction of soreness and throbbing. The discomfort that not even a handfull of percocet can relieve.
Alone and heavy hearted.
Why does everyone die?
Literally and figuratively.
On the bathroom floor and in my mind.
There is no one to talk to. Only this paper carries my burden. I can see it, but I can’t do it. I’m so tired.
Is it the end or just the beginning?
Either way it’s going to hurt.
Your voice was the only voice I could bear to hear screaming. Because it was beautiful.
How do I put the million little pieces together to tell my story?
You need to know.
My mind is so undone I cannot form the words. Is that what breeds the pain? The inability to form words the heart is trying to scream, but they remain trapped. Is that why the lyrics of a song have the power to unravel me into a puddle where the million litte pieces seem impossible to reassemble? A puddle I’ve been trying not to drown in as long as I’ve been alive. This is where I live. A house overflowing with words because I cannot get them out for a normal person to decode.
The house where the locks are on the inside.
At least I can write all over the walls.
And my words no one can paint over.
Sitting on the floor
Staring out the window
Wiping off the polish
Lost in a trance
Listening to GaGa
Child on her left
Controllers and LeBron
Has no clue mama’s gone
Looking straight ahead
She listens and nods
One say he’ll remember
Mama in her towel
Her portable speaker
Words give her life
Feeling sexy today
She never knows
But born this way
Her eyes touch the screen
But she can’t see shit
Training herself to separate
What’s love got to do with it
She loves getting high
Always have always will
Doesn’t mean she’ll keep crushin’ up or throwing back those wretched little pills
But she probably will
Love the feeling
Hate the life
Prey on weakness
Overflowin’ with strife
Let the girl be
She’s coming into her own
But now’s the time to take her
She’s stripped and alone
She knows the devil so well
You’d think she’d see him comin’
So wrapped up in the bottle
She can’t ever get to runnin’
Paralyzed and cornered
He chases her down
His partners know her hiding places too
There’s not one more to be found
She’s danced here so long
Hell ain’t nothin new
He tricks her with the wind
It blows a new direction
A better high to chase
But it only lasts a minute
It’s worth it though, ain’t it?
Just in case this time is different.
I wish my insides matched my outsides.
Then I could more than halfway feel pretty.
Then when that creep gives the animal call,
Then when that man gives the nod,
Then I could muster up
The look in my eyes that matches the pain in my heart to say“fuck you”
Oh why can’t I, oh God?