Don't Try [Poetry]

cathartic gold

cathartic gold

jan14twenty19

the prettiest sounds are pretty because the instruments are speaking to us. their tongue, so passionate and full of feelings we can't quite describe, adapted from our own into something much more beautiful - the chords led me to believe that the universe's purpose was for me to listen.

people still don't listen. to the whistling dawn and the gentle stream coaxed out of tired eyes, to bees bumbling about and laying siege to brains; all you can hear is buzzing, honey leaks out your pores.

feeling so existential, we so need to attain a higher state of mind. I felt it w/ringing in and up my heart, surely addicts can relate. a philosophical drug is always much more dangerous. addiction of non-physical substance is draining in a different light.

and they still aren't listening. to the sound of heartbeats enraged with song, to the strum of their own heartstrings. pretty sounds, only how. the chorus once spoke to me in a dream.

how I long to write the words that perfectly set down how this collection of words and blurs and beats and insanity exactly sated my every need. the words are all there, flitting around my left atrium.

how we longed like a summer's day and the twilight when stars flew by. how we dreamed.