draft

I stood there seeing the new piece in the gallery of the sky, so many came before it, but as the flaming clouds turned shades of a violent violet my heart unleashed itself and spilt out into my mind. I tried to hold on to one strand of thought but it was impossible in the tangle of moments in my memory. I saw the boy filled with emotion, speaking words with no defined definition but filled with absolute meaning as his body trembled from the inside out, seeking the meaning of his existence in this illogical world. I saw the old man whose beliefs in a God of righteousness and order stood firm as his family fell apart around him looking for a love he had castrated, put in a suit, and placed on display on Sunday morning, deaf, dumb, and blind to the concepts of giving and understanding. I saw her eyes, welled up as she told me she too wished she could lay in my arms, a week before chaos took her beyond my reach. I longed to call that long forgotten number that led to a voice mail message with that familiar voice that I will never hear again. I stepped inside to get away from the cold and passed a stranger in the mirror on my way up the stairs. I remembered the lack of tears as they lowered her into the ground, my heart callous and my shoulders strong, holding up the beliefs of others, as I slowly lost my own. My hand went instinctively to that spot on my knee, and I remembered there's a lighthouse in this storm. Sometimes I wonder if I really made it to land, or if I only caught a glimpse of the lighthouse as I was dashed against the rocks and sunk slowly to the bottom. I stepped into the room of chaos and peace, strewn with dirty and clean clothes and the paraphernalia of a man addicted to music. As the deficit in my atention grew I placed ink on paper, and I fel the pain of the ink in my skin, stepped out of the past and began filling the future with false hopes till I saw the futility of my own actions and tore the paper to pieces. I picked up my guitar and strummed at random chords and notes, scraping at vibrations that might say what my voice and pen could not. As my notes became louder and more frantic the doors of my consciousness opened I closed my eyes and my thoughts were overcome with sound and rhythm till I found silence in my soul. But this peace is not eternal and theres nothing worse than feeling alone but not weary. Someone crack my ribs open reach into my heart and pull out this madness.