Move On.

Since my time of writing's last, my trial has ended, numb, anti climatic.

As far as aforementioned trials go, I was not found guilty. I was not strapped to a chair, in the strictest sense. Merely found a word I can't put my finger on. Hair of the duck, I'm living in a cupboard, I socialized overly, a week spent drowning in nobody's home, now I drown in here on my own.

Life becomes of no words never meant more words to me, but what of irony?

Burning down like the last match.

But, poetic devices aside (clearly...), I feel that the situations mounting up have given me some perspective.

I am not a child, never will be, and teenage angst ridden fantasies of burning love, consuming everything around it, ending in fiery death, archetypal, doesn't move me any longer.

She was exactly what I wanted, until she proved that she wasn't.

My life, I just want to live, immortal.

I have troubles, no doubt, but I don't need them. If I can do what I say without saying I need to do.

Sentences fall off the edge of the cliff, where I sit in the chair, rocking.

The blues.

I'd be happy, in life, just to be, to write, to do, to exist at peace with my world. I don't want what I used to. Not even what I wanted a week ago. I'll never burn a lead sheet again.

In talking previously, to the past, I said.

I said in streams of consciousness, stuck in Tin Pan Alley alone and breathing. I mentioned today's failures, useless, worthless days ending in hopeless night and twisted dreams. Maybe I'm wired differently, a friend once said. Maybe twisted dreams are the start of my days, not the end.

I begin in the night, in the hour for magick.

Maybe some day soon, I'll fall down in the street, clutching my chest as I pass the places we used to sit, but at the moment, all I think about is sigh. An anti climax, the likes of which has never been seen.

There are so many ways I could describe the lucidity of feeling I believe I am in regarding many situations, but I feel, with my mind processing metaphors and rhymes, listless chimes, that I could never explain them in space and time. Eclipse.

There's nothing in my eyes but cloudy dreams of tomorrow.

I'm living nightmares in blue.

For you.