Where our main characters find themselves journeying apart from each other into adventures and places unknown in the hopes that they will reunite as realized and complete individuals on the other side….so we begin in Reno, NV…..
S & H at Taco Loco
Transcribe the hope I feel into optimism and other such essential stuffs. Imbibe the flow of sweet spirit that drips from off our lips and out our mouths. Believe in dreams meant not to fade even if the road has twisted uglier and uglier still. Hold tight to goals we shared as our footsteps drift further and further apart. We’re still in love, and this journey which so profoundly changed us is not at its end yet – just an interlude.
All image credit to this beautiful article and author.
I’m looking for a flow to spew, to vomit pained fire in words and lyrical nonsense, drench virtual paper in a cascade of feeling, wishing for the release of a moment where my fingertips press onto keys melded into an outpouring of something greater than myself. I’m looking for a rhythm and a cadence, and empty hollow to rest my eyes and heart within where my brain can’t intrude or interrupt where the language is something not of word but made of a noise that comes from deeper down primal and totally absent of definition. I’m looking for a tapping of keys that harmonizes with my feelings and that calms waters boiling over with discontent where monsters lurk and playful creatures breathe imagination as though it were the purest of air carefree in their joy and hungers contented to be their own masters and demanding nothing from anyone. I’m shaking the trees of logic and thought demanding that they un-fucking-root and get on with the business of dying so that chaos can wash over me as a wind of compassion letting me know that the madness is so very real that anything else was a facade and an illusion that its okay and I’ve come home to rest where I belong. I’m lacing myself with poisons to calm the nerves incinerating the memories of dreams never to be realized in pools of chemical passivity bleeding oil into my disquiet shores where the glass and sand are never polished and always cut though they shine like diamonds to lure you in. I’m hunting for a flow, that special moment when time collapses on itself and there is oneness understanding, immutable confidence, and a distant stare connection to more, recognition and awareness, centered peace, consolidated thoughts, pacified emotions, acceptance, and satisfaction. I’m looking for a flow, one that tells me loneliness is temporary, and that the universe is there in all its infinity and splendor ready to skull fuck me back into joy when it feels fit that reminds me there’s no point sulking and being miserable this is the human condition in all its shit stained raimants and that I could be grateful for the ability and opportunity to experience it. I’m looking for a flow, but right now I’m just writing, and there’s no flow to be found.
Sing me songs of vitriol all laced in melodies of love, shame my wisdom gained by years of pain, tell me that sentience comes from somewhere up above.
Mock my broken harpsichord that I played with as a child, tone deaf ears on loosed strung strings twanged hard milk savagely the loneliness we all feel as calling from the wild.
Forever more the notes will keep as a heap rotting in my memories, the smell of favored sympathy and dulled attention, what once was beautiful to the ears of youth is deadened by perfection.
To Ink - a blog from Melting Neurons 