paradoxcycle
Bluelight Crew
in summer days i walked away from you. and thought only of dried tears on my cheeks of madness let loose dripping across my shoulders and i could barely take your weight.
so i left you with your own cross to bear, wounded, unwound, undying devotion to your starry eyes, cramp wars, and lust in the full moon. i knew in the end i'd take you home, carrying saints on my back, inside you, calamities breaking free from the dormancy you let rest for a while when you put it down, weak. no liberation left.
and that's the way i remember it (like so many other ways, i do) lost and alone cowardly in the way of mayflowers and ninas, pintas, santa-fucking-marias, truth is our only lighthouse now, but your across the mind universe and i am only waiting in the thought-fog for you to explode again.
when i was very young and first started writing i was like an old sea captain in love with wailing on words like salt water "cut the tides! cut the tides!" i screamed bitter curses in headscapes. i pounded and hammered and jumped all over (not tinkering) the words and they kept coming back for more. that's how i fell in love.
so much can be said about the underappreciated art of getting high alone. how many times it's saved my life. how many nights i've known it was the safe way to live, like when the door click she left me was playing rabid repeat, or it was too late for smiles and arthur rimbaud was pounding at my door or mahler's knife was at my throat and i forgot to breathe.
you have a choice. you can learn to get high alone sometimes or your life can be just another billy joel record. and tonight was my night. so i will stay up late and get battlefield high.
so i left you with your own cross to bear, wounded, unwound, undying devotion to your starry eyes, cramp wars, and lust in the full moon. i knew in the end i'd take you home, carrying saints on my back, inside you, calamities breaking free from the dormancy you let rest for a while when you put it down, weak. no liberation left.
and that's the way i remember it (like so many other ways, i do) lost and alone cowardly in the way of mayflowers and ninas, pintas, santa-fucking-marias, truth is our only lighthouse now, but your across the mind universe and i am only waiting in the thought-fog for you to explode again.
when i was very young and first started writing i was like an old sea captain in love with wailing on words like salt water "cut the tides! cut the tides!" i screamed bitter curses in headscapes. i pounded and hammered and jumped all over (not tinkering) the words and they kept coming back for more. that's how i fell in love.
so much can be said about the underappreciated art of getting high alone. how many times it's saved my life. how many nights i've known it was the safe way to live, like when the door click she left me was playing rabid repeat, or it was too late for smiles and arthur rimbaud was pounding at my door or mahler's knife was at my throat and i forgot to breathe.
you have a choice. you can learn to get high alone sometimes or your life can be just another billy joel record. and tonight was my night. so i will stay up late and get battlefield high.
