Tuesday, 10 December 2013

Frisson (hiding in plain sight).

Go your way,
I'll take the long way 'round,
I'll find my own way down,
As I should.

And hold your gaze
There's coke in the Midas touch
A joke in the way that we rust,
And breathe again.

And you'll find loss
And you'll fear what you found
When weather comes
Tearing down
The song swells into my ears as I burn alive, turning to ash when the cool night air hits my skin. But I don't go inside because the cold makes my head hurt less. Inside with the heat and the lights and the noise it throbbed like a strobe and out here it is quiet and dark and icy. I think I'll sleep out here but they will say no because I will die. I think I will move out here where the sounds are swallowed by the wind and the black night hides the truth of things like age, loyalty and death, things like history and longing and betrayal. I think I'll exist out here in a world on the other side of the glass where I can look in and see them but they can't see me and I think I'll go inside now because my fingers and toes and my heart and my mind are numbed now and feeling so much better this way.