#chriscornell
May 2017.
The world went quiet
and I was in jail.
Trying not to cry—
I wanted to be in the sky
or on a highway somewhere,
when Chris Cornell left
this earth,
that haunted
sanctuary of a voice
burning through the speakers
like a bottle rocket,
fighting demons in every note.
Robin—
laughter stopped mid-stride.
Comic genius swallowed
by despair.
A mind staring hard at reality—
what a concept—
turning joy into shadow
as dawn shattered
into a million broken smiles.
Chester—
two months after Chris.
Friends in life,
echoes in death.
His skin simply too
much to inhabit.
That climbing, aching cry—
crawling toward
something better,
or maybe just away from pain.
Three fathers. Three artists.
Burning too bright,
leaving too soon.
Demons whispering behind
their brilliance.
Bleeding inside…
behind the flame of Babylon.
I knew the nights,
tasting like whiskey
and
whispered hallelujahs.
The days overflowing
like rivers of ****
I walked the hellish streets,
their voices my soundtrack—
numb and febrile under a
beaten sky,
watching the balloons float off
into someone else’s party,
demons trailing in every shadow.
I know the cost of
of feeling like you
have to be "on"
all the ******* time.
Next month
I’ll be three years sober—
holding on to whatever light I can,
because I know the darkness
far too ******* well.
I carry their music,
and Robin’s laughter,
in my bones and bloodstream—
their pain folded into my own
black dog days.
Rest in peace, boys.
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 3:41 PM UTC
if only the world was as beautiful as the sound of these music,
oh, how peaceful we would be- just how lovely,
if only the expression of heart break in songs makes the pain easier,
singers won't take their own life- yes they'll become happy;
do they sing those words, screaming for help, for help from us?
all we do is dance, reminisce, criticize and fantasize for the satisfaction of our souls;
many have come, many have gone, their carcasses lying in graves,
yeah, some fans cry while others criticize as if mockery is their only goal;
if i was your lover, would you have died on me?
if i was your friend, could i have been of help?
maybe yes, maybe not or maybe you'll still think that dying would set you free;
or maybe yes, maybe not, maybe i would inspire you to make one more living step;
if only love could be as true as the love songs we hear,
we would be watching the sunset with the type of lovers we always desired;
if only, yes if only we had one more chance to make it right,
maybe we would go back to that high school boy or girl whose sincere love we defiled;
i wish that the world is as beautiful as these songs i hear,
i wish that we could all be happy and that our race wouldn't matter;
will there be a day when we will make living less complicated for one another?
so that in the end, when these songs play, our troubles would truly be over.
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 8:36 AM UTC
Your skin they Unzip,
your body they Evacuate
themselves they Force
their thoughts they Shove.
They control your mouth
to shoot words about a cause;
they CLAIM they Know!
With your Blood,
they'll wipe two stripes
on their cheeks,
ready for marching the streets!
Shouting loud
about pain and grief.
Clueless they are -
how Foggy it can be.
Step by step,
in your tight skin,
they marched ignorantly -
Thinking freedom
they had to snap;
"Snap out" of the inches
they invaded -
in the name of relating.
Not knowing,
what it takes to talk that Talk.
A mile in your skin they thought they can Walk -
Your SUFFERING;
they couldn't hold
out of your skin -
COWARDLY they withdraw...
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 9:23 AM UTC