(no subject)

And I'm tired of trying to find some sort of
Meaningful thing
In making sense of such unspeakable loss
But as I'm staring at your folks
The sweetest people i know
I get a glimpse of what it is to be strong
Just holding hands and sobbing with sunglasses on
'Coz nothing tuned me in
To absurdity as fast
As a gravestone with the name
Of a baby that has passed
I used to wanna be important
Now I just wanna be alive
And without fear
You got to persevere
I couldn't count the times
I've ragged on heaven
As an opiate invented by the weak
It's an argument I hate
'Coz I'm content to love the fates
But it comes up a lot with Emme's dad and me
So I'm shotgun in the car
And we're just shooting the shit
And predictably the talking turns to God
So I throw him forty lines
How I don't think he exists
And he just smiles and
Takes a dignified pause
Says, "it's ok to feel unbelievably lost"
There is safety in the moments
When the shit has hit the fan
Not some vindictive motherfucker
Nor is he shitty at his job
What words to hear
And I'm a mess by now
'Coz nothing tuned me in to my
Failure as fast
As grieving for a friend
With more belief than I possessed
It's not some disembodied heaven
He assured me then he laughed
And says through tears
You got to persevere
We threw a party up in here
But god it was bittersweet
I live hard 'coz I am scared
That I won't mean anything
So now I'm praying to the ceiling
To the windows, to the walls
Against this sudden sinking feeling
That there's nothing there at all
And still
We just persevere

(no subject)

Gira el haz de luz
para que se vea desde alta mar.
Yo buscaba el rumbo de regreso
sin quererlo encontrar.

Pie detrás de pie
iba tras el pulso de claridad
la noche cerrada, apenas se abría,
se volvía a cerrar.

Un faro quieto nada sería
guía, mientras no deje de girar
no es la luz lo que importa en verdad
son los 12 segundos de oscuridad.

Para que se vea desde alta mar...
De poco le sirve al navegante
que no sepa esperar.

Pie detrás de pie
no hay otra manera de caminar
la noche del Cabo
revelada en un inmenso radar.

Un faro para, sólo de día,
guía, mientras no deje de girar
no es la luz lo que importa en verdad
son los 12 segundos de oscuridad.

(no subject)

I met a man with a broken back
He had a fear in his eyes that I could understand
I can't even shake the pain without breakin'

I've been pullin' on a wire, but it just won't break
I've been turnin' up the dial, but I hear no sound
I resist what I cannot change
And I wanna find what can't be found

(no subject)

"Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” - Kafka on the shore