funeral of a beautiful mind.

you used to shape the world for me, in ways that my soul only wished to embody.. to lay before you like a memory painted on canvas as a dream. i wanted to engulf every word; let it penetrate my concentration so my skin finally shed anew and shown it's true color.

you used to commemorate a collision of cataclysmic patterns of thought that only brought me more into a hunger for new revelation. it wasn't so much the answers you brought, there were more questions mixed with personal fears, but the ways you sought it out without my permission. there was a beauty in the antithesis of your struggle and the discontentment with what was inexcusably and artificially laid before you. you had daggers for eyes, and wouldn't allow yourself to see anything less. you felt the inconspicuous interactions within the atmosphere, and you let them both challenge and affect you.. and within that struggle, i confessed to myself 'my God, you are beautiful'. in all your imperfections you were immaculate. you were a heightened dream, an unanswered prayer, a beautiful, hypnotic glow in the darkest of nights. in my eyes, you moved with such fluidity, slow motion and without speaking a word. you were energizing to me. you were fateful..

i watched slowly as your attention turned away and you bent towards the darkness as one felt allergic to the light.

the cataclysms in your eyes started to dissipate and i desperately resorted to a search. a sign of any form of rejuvenation. i searched agonizingly like two pilgrims creating a genesis to reach the apex of your face..with every dying breath of anticipation stolen by the dimming realization; i came upon the murder of a beautiful mind..you drew in the crowd's poison like a sadistic sting. you let her seduction cloud your mental imagery to a monotone drone and hated every meticulous, secret, hidden oasis you built. you wished for the warmth only given by the women whose lamps were fueled of stolen oil, and only burned half full.

my perception of you began to darken as i strained my eyes to recollect you, as if my retinas had strength to bring you back into focus and full view. with every attempt you seemed to shake off that which set you apart, and with my every sinking cell that went down with my lost dream of you, you began to cast a thin shadow and walked heavily within the monotonous crowd as i lost you in the drone. your speech became cheap and contradicting full of trap doors that only lead to dead ends. and if there were never ending hallways they lead in circles and only created illusions of that which could never be solid.

your speech became protocol, no longer pushing through glass ceilings. you let yourself get sucked dry by the vices that called you for their own. you ruled among dunces who spoke words of disillusionment to appease your unsettling thoughts and kill your ability to dream in an innovative state of mind.

and in the here and now, the grains that i seemed to grasp, i've now only let sink in between my fingers. and the vision and thought of you, only brought a biting reminder of what once was. and in my every step into the future, i continue to elaborate, ruminate, and unfold. when catching glimpses of you, felt like pangs shooting to the mourning of a beautiful mind.

=

speaking wordless tones and sound waves that only a select few would be able to receive fully, and reciprocate.

I'm drawing and engaging..into these cells.

so ferociously, in this day and age beautiful things are covered, skewed, passed over unknowingly.. and all we want is to taste the tangible, and hold it till it over powers and supersedes our senses.

climb her like a monument, she is understated.

she is behind closed doors, she has many hallways, but only one passage.

she is an untapped well,.. she is potent enriched water.

she is translucent like glass, superfluous like an unending ocean.

she is dangerous behind pricking thorns surrounding a castle of unattainable heights.

she is dangerous because she is true,

she is complex because she is pure.

she is wrong, because everything within you knows. it's overwhelmingly right.

she is both, a misfortune and a prize.

she is a reward and an unspeakable curse.

she is both pandora's box and the childhood keepsake therein.

she is an unrelenting nightmare and an unquenchable dream.

she is your estranged love and your soul searching fountain to quench your thirst.

she is only spirit, inhabiting an undesirable, hindering body..

she gets inside of you first, than feels her way out

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb.

My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth.

My bones were not hidden from you when I was being made in secret, when I was being skillfully woven in an underground workshop.

My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth...

psalm 139 v. 15

"So instead of giving in to despair I chose active melancholy, in so far as I was capable of activity, in other words I chose the kind of melancholy that hopes, that strives and that seeks, in preference to the melancholy that despairs numbly and in distress. "- Vincent van gogh

i came across his letters today,..and there seems to be an understated illumination to his demeanor through his words. i tend to feel that. i can always sense the deepest part of a person, through just the way they choose their form of sentences and how they say it.

..sometimes, i cannot even look a person in the eyes, because i am afraid of what i might see.

vincent had the words correctly for what I am most of the time. it is not that i am sad, or that even melancholy is considered a treacherous concept in my lifestyle. it's a stimulus. it catalyzes me, i know i am doing what is meant for it with good.

dear God.

you've been the ultimate apex in my mind. you've lifted me to inexpressible heights, only to drive me back down to the murkiest of depths. and even in that place of obscurity, i've learned to be allured ..and fixated on your wild nature. I trust no one other than you to cause my breath to lapse, and draw me into awe.

bury

i'd rather bury my head in books with endless pages,

change my identity.

and disappear completely.

relocate to a new foreign country,

where there i stay in a silent, winter city by the sea.

minutes from a thriving metropolis that

can swallow me whole in the mass booming population.

there i will be surrounded by foreigners- aliens of the elegant kind.

and i will resist to ever offend and disengage myself

in them as they will teach me a new language

and a new heritage all my own.

my mind and heart has been broken open.

for a reason.

winter is better in the dark

she spent all night encompassed in a nebulous mind. without any way of relieving her scattered thoughts, she retreated from her warm bed to escape into the wintery night. and in this explorative genesis; with the dew caressing her skin and the night wind's howl her only conversation, she was all at once clarified in her mind.

sometimes i revert to a place, i've never been. only in my mind, faricated from my imagination. i think, ..if i were to go there would it actually be all that i feel it would seem? or would i create the atmosphere around me.

sometimes i feel more connected with an inspiration than the reality of subjects and physical solidarity around me. it seeps in...then it vaporizes into the atmosphere.

this is the feel

find me here.

i want to be in the midst of strangers,

on a train ride with you.

in our ears a metaphysic soundtrack will be playing,

that only the two of us can reverberate through the retinas

back to each other.

rebel vein

hours of this will start to skew your perception..

lone wolf.

isolation has done great wonders for me.

I've gone into many mind warps and fed my heart, mind, and Spirit profusely.. what more could i ever ask for?

because i've been able to start spinning plates, my current up keeps have left me satisfied and still reeling..
thank you Jesus

tycho "Coastal Brake"

first vinyl to add to my new collection.

tired eyes, paired with avid hearts

hotel room 3
Originally uploaded by *laky

there's something about a hotel room that seems to bring me a sense of deep familiarity...
i somehow feel more engaged inwardly and in the weightiness of the atmosphere. i am able to see with a downtempo, blurred vision in all it's dimness..the reflections of being able to face myself.
even in my solitary times alone in a hotel bed, i was never really asleep. I was soaking up the atmosphere and readjusting my purpose in a new surrounding. I think my body likes being in new and unfamiliar places. especially as something so temporary as a hotel room.
i get the sense that important, heartfelt moments will happen in these few hours of a make shift home..
..maybe, with others it's having to fabricate a somewhat temporary family in those few hours, that makes it all the more encompassing.
we've all been locked and tucked together in this comfortable room, with nothing but the necessities, dream-like sheets set to the stimulation of deep conversation, (the option of) the tv set turned down to a low drone; making it seem like the walls were meant for ears, and a coffee pot used for tea . and in this make shift home, with beds meant to swallow us into complacency,...the interactions of atoms between life stories start to unfold.

i like the idea of beds never meant to sleep in. just lying in them while your eyes weigh in and out as you fight off the sleep, just because you want to soak in the last moments with these people you'll probably never get the privilege to again.

some of my best moments were spent in hotel rooms. always with people, I carried a deep sense of love and admiration for..i seem to never forget the emotion and intrinsic connection reacting invisibly between us in the silence. in those last few moments before drifting in and out into sleep. ..where they and I were at our most vulnerable state. and in this state, we trusted each other to fall asleep, as if we grew up like siblings sharing the same room.

..i still remember the stillness of the air. the gentle waking to a quiet morning, and...the hidden melancholy knowing the last moments with them were coming down to an end, set to a check-out date.

and in the corners of my mind, i've revisited and made emblems and waves to the memories of this. the instances when we met in such a transitory -permanent- state.

Brothers on a Hotel Bed - Deat...