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Kristina Weeks May 2018
Why can’t anyone else hear the music?
The sound so alluring and entrancing.
It guides my every step in this melancholy world.
It spins around me and in me like the quiet kiss of a an Autumnal breeze.

The colors are sounds, every note a changing mood lifting my spirit with each new song.
Each new aria swelling and deluging my soul.
This feeling of devastating peace I cannot describe nor live without.

So why can’t you hear it?
Why can’t you feel it?
It’s so emphatic so intrusive and belligerent  yet here I stand in the midst of this crescendoing chorus, ears ringing with this music but nobody dances.

And no amount of sonder can take this isolating feeling away.
This panging loneliness that cradles me.
Why am I the only one?
Why can’t you carry this sustaining chord along side me?

I though I saw you hear it once.
You blinked those dismal eyes at me and in them I saw you.
They sparkled and opened up with the wonder of a child.
Your head turned to the sound and your face softened to a visage I once knew.
But soon they we’re shut.
Clamped down and locked, choosing to be blind and deaf to the song.
Turning away in shame and anger.

Oh how ignorant you are, choosing to turn away from this beautiful epiphany that could set you free.
How could you choose this life of apathy and abhorrence?
Why do you turn your face from me?
Is my music not enough?

Here I’ll wait and dance.
Spinning slowly to the sounds of my spirit.
Singing along with my own song until the day you sing it with me.
Just followed this overwhelming feeling I got from a song. 20:17 by Olafur Arnalds.
Kristina Weeks May 2018
I ******* hate you.
You slithering ****. You twisted snake.
My own creation but far from a child.

No face but the eyes. They see through and in me. Invading the deepest crevices of my mind. Turning my slowly torsional heart black.

Writhing behind me but shuffling closer and closer. Like the omnipresent ghost you are. You’re weak. You need me.

I your creator and your life force. You distend and prate as you drain all I have. Leaving me a ******* shell. A shambling corpse left to rot in the earth.

Neither living nor dead you consume my being. Plunge your sinuous claws in my chest. Probing for more to take, but I am empty.

Callous and apathetic you toss what’s left. My decrepit body languishing as you lick your claws and  gloat. Perched and waiting for the chance to leech from me again.
My visual representation of my anxiety and depression.
Kristina Weeks May 2018
Where am I?
What path should I take?
Begin this new life waiting to die?
Or turn back...to my old world?

Am I still stable? Or am I being consumed by the chaos?
Is this truth that I’m seeing or the fabricated delusions of insanity?
Just one step away from that finite darkness.

The uncertainty and despair it snatches at my ankles and neck like chains. Pulling me towards the wall of doubt. This sour taste of fear bleeding out of my mouth. It threatens to consume me now. Truly already so lost. This bird without wings trying to fly but fatally falling from grace.

So long I’ve been staring and searching for some semblance of a savior that I’ve been tying my own noose with the false  fibers of fabrication. Can I still be saved when my soul is so barely recognizable? Covered in acid and tar from my wretched past with blatant disregard for the lives around me. This dark cloud nearly has me now.
Can I be saved?
Can I be saved?

Suddenly bursting forth in a brilliant display, the light pierces through the darkness illuminating my face like an unforeseen kiss.
Rise.
Rise.
The veil is lifted.
The chains are broken
falling like ash.
Veneration percusses my soul and through squinted eyes I can see it all.

This truth I’ve been searching for. What was always inside whispering.
Too blind to listen.
Too deaf to see.
Overcome with indescribable peace I reach for the hand of solace.
The light melting this torment and anguish from my heart.
Climbing from that blind cave of oblivion I raise my face to my rightful place in the sun.
Blindingly taken with this beauty I once withdrew from.
I am reborn.
I am reborn.
Just wrote these lyrics to a song. The song will be a spoken word over a metal type instrumental. I drew my inspiration from the swelling style of the music and Plato’s allegory of the cave.
Kristina Weeks May 2018
I wretch
My chest in my hands
So precious with its soft blue glow
The helpless weakened flickering

I reach out to the blur
Desperation overtaking
Each spinning around and onward
A cacophony of faces each more terrifying than the last
Laughing with their empty eyes
Each smile a twisted tear on the opaque visage
The cracked and blooded lips spit

Crawling, I offer my light

Fix it

Fix it


Please fix it

A swirling white cloak overtakes me
It’s gaping eyes and contorted smile
Staring through me apathetically like a worn mirror
It’s head snaps as it comes closer

I reach

The tangled tendrils twitch as they envelop my light
Empty holes looking at nothing
Growing darker
The tear twitches, bleeding
Turning downward

The hold loosens
My light discarded like the rest
The cloak dissipates back into the mass
Laughing again

The light flickers

I wretch

-[KW]
No notes here
Kristina Weeks May 2018
I wonder if the moon ever feels alone.
Looking down on the earth a big ball of stone. Does he lament at night when we’re all astir ignoring his presence a myriad a blur of faces turning the disentranced eye.

Maybe that is why he seeks the sun.
The constant race to see her face but left with a whisper no matter the haste. Left alone with just a vestige of thoughts that once he had.

Doomed to forever be staring at a glow. Does he covet for her? Yearning for one look. One word to be heard. Does he scream for her now? Questioning why and how does he even exist. Calling for love and asservation with nothing left but desperation until she’s finally gone again.

He sits alone in wait anon. Until her face he’ll look upon. I stare and wonder if he’ll know. If he’ll know she’ll be back anew tomorrow?
- [KW]
This poem was written after a beautiful full moon we had recently. Just got really inspired.

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