Breaking news

Back to our existence a Big bang theory was a comic story,
the only big bang that happens every day brings distruction
it was the sound of a bullet escaping a gun to find home in a spinal cord

in other news
cracks were discovered in a happly married man.
we are all broken after all.
till death bring us together, for another funeral called revaluation.

Sullen woes are collected between
            the instrumental vows that crave tears.
With each key that speaks beyond
                                        the hearing of emotion.

We all listen deeply to the last cord,
             played and realize
               that there is more than us.

And within every  reflection,
          we see were all but systematic keys
          being played
through life's chorus of finite moments.

And were never going to play the same cord twice.

I’m fidgeting with the AUX cord of my headphones
It’s because music is only blaring through one of the ears
It’s strange

To my left, I can hear the sonorous warcry of a singer
To my right, I only hear a contemptful whisper from a dark corner of my mind

To my left, I hear a percussionist beating the drums and cymbals
To my right, all I hear is the sound of tears bursting against the floorboards

To my left, a moving melody accompanies a soulful serenade
To my right, there is only empty static to fill an eerie silence

Maybe I should consider getting these old things repaired
Or getting a new pair entirely
Oh, would you look at that!
I finally managed to fix it
Now everything is alright again.

umbilical cords i was
born with a pair
one motherly
the latter devilish
one i lost
one i kept with me
steel, forever cursed.
it pulls me
to the destruction path
where i lie with no remorse
and it's the strangest force
that pushes you away
from me.
invisible lives i lead
in the dark
where i keep you the most
but sometimes show you sparks
from a parallel road
i should have taken
right from the womb
but they drag me down
yet attached to hell
by a fine, thin
unbreakable thread

please forgive me
and them
we're one at this point


-- Eleanor

every time his voice filled my ears
my heart strings vibrated
so he gently plucked or strummed
to match his ballads

but as days passed
with his playing and vocals getting rougher
his fingers bled and scarred
and then i snapped

gone was the singing boy
his beautiful guitar
but you can still see them love
whenever you hear their song