Midnight at the Matrix. Only in poetry music, ***. Sometimes there's a way out.
And a dreamland in the inbetween. Seeing things you haven't seen. But there are some boundaries.
There are little worlds behind them. You can see them but you can't go there yet. And creatures walking around you ignoring you. This world is not yet yours.
Midnight at the matrix. Trying to get ready to relax. Finishing your last phone call.
You both broke down on the other side of the line. Both vacuum ****** and you can't get through the end of the bowl. Cause there's no end at all. No end in a vacuum bowl.
Still not completely ****** in the same way. But soon you'll be ****** together in the same old bowl. One of you just came out of war, the other out of hell. Not much difference, still a world of a difference.
One is still and the other always ill. Cause being ****** in a bowl where everything is too much makes you never relax... Being ****** in a bowl after a war is a calm in the eye of a storm. An eye of glass....
Midnight at the Matrix. Only in poetry music, ***. Sometimes there's a way out.
Take my hand and we’ll jump through the pastel chalk powder. We can be a different creature. Both of us can go and feel at home. Not here.
This can be an ode to my friends and my closest family. Because you are always so dear and understanding, especially now that we're here. Finally. Look now all around, it feels full of options but it still makes you nauseous, yes I know.
Take my hand and let me show you why I have to go through the pastel powder. Let me be a different creature, I feel sick when I stick around. Both of us can feel at home now when we jump right through the ground. A chalk pavement painting.
Let's go right into the pavement painting. Let me take you. Pastel, not too bright but soft and light. Comfortable.
This painting is an ode to my dear friends and closest family. Because you're always so dear and some things you understand so well. Come on let me take care of those wounds and soreness with a chalk powder. A soft chalky powder smell.
And soft colours for strange creatures. We can be. A different kind of creature when we go through the chalk powder on the pavement. Take my hand, we can be, we can be...
Why am I breathing in your smoke? Coughing till I choke. Why am I always hearing you talk? I live here. But it’s not living cause there’s no escaping. Your noise, your voice.
Sometimes I force my cramped up body to crawl. Only in music I can make this possible. Understand my tears, they are streaming from the top of my head boiling, steaming, streaming. I wish I could make you feel the hurt in my screaming!
Why am I forced to feel your **** when you smoke? My body turning ****** till I choke. Hours of horror. What day is it? What day was this sensitive guy going to die? I read he’ll die this Friday. Finally all his pain, horror and torture floating away. I will wave his ship goodbye.
But can I stay behind as my friends are keeping me around the finish line? It’s over but we’re having another bag of crisps and maybe even another little glass of wine. Why am I still breathing? Forcing this body that is never leaving...
Death is a strange thing. But when life is torturing... Death whispers a soft lullaby. A sweet and bitter goodbye. An I’m so sorry to friends and family. There’s still a place where we can be. I’ll try to be there. When you ever feel the horror and the torture that somehow some people must bare. I know all about the suffocation of life and how it makes your body and mind feel too old. Your cramping muscles too sore and your inside too cold. No way to calm it down but I will somehow change it cause I must. It’s something I do for me and something you have to trust. Because there’s no other way and it won’t go away. Even when I dance in a trance. I need no more torture. No more torture.
Death is a strange thing. Death is living. When life is torturing. Whisper sweet lullabies as I’m crying, as you’re crying. Please understand, I’m never leaving because I’m never leaving you forever. And I care but it’s so dark and merciless here that it gives me a fever. One I can only escape in a sweet lullaby. In a sweet bitter goodbye. Goodbye, goodnight, I love you, feel the sparkle, feel the warm embrace from behind. I’m never gone you’ll find. It will be another night for a moth lying on its side with its arms and legs on its side. Wings covering its tiny body. Exhausted and weary, feverish and a tickling cough. Can’t keep eyes open, can never fully drift off.
Standing here in that dark room looking away. I let you take advantage of me. But now I even feel so much more empty. It was something I just felt I had to do, a bucket list thing. Don’t know what I was thinking, just a feeling.
But I learned that there’s a thin line between giving something and giving even more. It’s confusing, I don’t even know exactly what you took. I just feel so empty.
So now I’m standing in a dark room in my head looking back. I thought it should be fine as long as I would keep thrack of what was yours and what was mine. Now I know that there’s a thin line....
You aimed for the most or you just didn’t aim right. So it landed somewhere where it hurts. On me and now I even feel so much more empty. It was something I just felt I had to do, a bucket list thing. Don’t know what I was thinking, just a feeling.
It started off right, trusting letting go. Killing off the gatekeeper. I should just have let him take a break. Not take him to the grim reaper.
But now I know that there’s a thin line between giving something and giving even more. It’s confusing, I don’t even know exactly what you took. I just feel so empty.
I fought a snake last night. A boy came after me to do the same. But I told him I already did it. He seemed to not really believe that I already gone through this fight. It was over but he made me do it again. So I threw the boy to the snake and ran.
Something in me told me I had to do this to really finish it. Couldn’t help being a bad ***** in my dream. It was his time to fight so now I had to leave.
Be free. Run, run, run. Run to the city. The brown empty city in the night. Through the night.
I don’t know why this keeps on happening. It’s like I’m forced to fight every time before being able to let go. Can’ t just shake it off cause there’s always something, somebody left to fight with or fight for. And afterwards being afraid of what will be my sentencing. It’s unacceptable, you did something horrible.
Something in me told me I had to do this to really finish it. Couldn’t help being a bad ***** in my dream. It was his time to fight so now I had to leave
**** it off and then you can run free! Run, run, run. Run to the city. The brown empty city in the night. Through the night.
Life = death & Death = life. When you let go you will know. You will know when you let go.
I don’t like the days and I don’t like the nights. I only like parts. I want to enter the part where I enter dreamland. Forever. Even while awake later. Just outside flying with the wind. No distraction. Being what I want to be. For once and for all. I want peace and dreams. In the dark and sometimes in the light too. But not too light, I became allergic to light. Cause this life has left me burning and not able to face the brightness of another difficult day. And the sounds are so horrific that they take my soul to leave it lost in space. And my body cannot move. It’s lying there still.
Today is heavy, my soul carrying my body. Yesterday we were walking chased by a black dog. Everywhere he followed me and my body. But when we tried to approach him, he ran as fast as a fox can.
We let him play this game for a while under a bright full moon in the sky. Walking to the bridge, sitting under trees. Staring at the sky, seeing the dog come and go. Until we got fed up and left to let him sort it out. He never came back anymore.
Today we had a meltdown, too much to carry to carry on. So we let it flow and accepted that you can’t fully explain this world and people are suffering. We’ve been lost all throughout this life and only gathered pieces to guide us through a journey that taught us that everything has a story.
And we gathered those with us as well. So many, still so lost. But nothing is wrong and nothing is right. It all just is what it is at that moment or that lifetime. This soul carrying this body today... It’s always longing to see and be beyond this one.