Friday 9 March 2018

Hey, how long.

We've become disillusioned
So we run towards anything glimmering

Time to put the silicon obsession down
Take a look around, find a way in the silence
Lie supine away with your back to the ground
Dis- and re-connect to the resonance now
You were never an island
Working out the notes to Disillusioned as the house wakes up slowly, the sun winning the race along with me, the rest loathe to catch up. It's Friday, it's sunny and I just came home, choosing the ghosts, headphones never leaving my skull, feeding it words, any words as long as they don't have to be on my own. Flat on my back underneath history, measured breathing matching effort, hands all over, brain broken on purpose in order to block the thoughts as they barge in, unwelcome interlopers ruining everything. Unwilling to hear the accent, unwilling to look into the pale eyes, unwilling to reach out and touch the closest thing I can find to him, but needing him all the same. I want to show him this song. I want to show him this life. I want him to break up the acrimony, rip up the habits, hollow out the routines, keep the peace, find the souls and sort them back into their places instead of this. I want him to come back and hold me, come back and smile at me. I want to feel safe. I want to feel peace. I want things to change. But I don't want to be the person who says that out loud and so I just keep fucking it all up trying to kill time dead in case that's the only thing keeping him from coming back.