The way in which you think, is indeed your art form.
I was laid by a man sailing the sea
With eyes effervescent green laden in an aura of free
Like a numb corpse arising I fell under his spell
Under the wide waves to free myself from my personal hell
And it was wise, of me and him, to make light of our past sins
By the light of the galaxy, wrapped up in universal hymns
“My speech is imperfect. Not because I want to shine with words, but out of the impossibility of finding those words, I speak in images. With nothing else can I express the words from the depths.”
― C.G. Jung,
I’m licking at liquid pins
And in the sins are quick flung flings
It’s not the people, it’s me
Found underneath tight gold vessels
Are the mighty hearts I wrestle
And it’s not me, it’s you
Can’t you just look at me, too?
An enmeshment of “I”
And a long, sordid sigh
Going from where to why
Loving you makes me shy
But I’m never in a bind
You’re never caught in a lie.
I can see you opening a box
Pale blue and glowing
And inside that box is the thing
That I’ve dreamed of knowing.
I think you’re able to see it
Whenever you have desired
But I’ve been searching for it
For so long and I’m so tired.
My heart suddenly realized
Why I’ve been so enamored
It was the recognition of you
Within me, the illusion shattered.
All of my eyes are falling from the skies
At night in front of our fright
The laughing ones are struggling in might
All of our hearts are being shot in the dark
Our mothers, our fathers, we aren’t far
From the pavement for feet to reach
One in front of the other
Falling, falling, falling