Muze (ic)

I can’t remember. Just can’t remember at all. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, hoping the scents will stir something inside. I’m thinking, did this really happen? Reaching far down for any remnants, lingerings or ghosts anything at all that could testify to

Of. Google isn’t helping either. How could I let go of something so big, so important, so significant? How could I erase full pages, paragraphs that made me shiver clenched my throat rocked my body?

How could I? Live thinking this was the way, this was it. Then it eased itself into an undistinguishable blot on my canvas. It’s a fucking mess again. Layers to be stripped, coats to be shed. I can’t even let go long enough to concentrate on thinking about it. It’s as fleeting as anything I’ve ever had the chance to hold.

Don’t want it back. I just wish it never left. Just wish I never let it go.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YUdG4RiO268&hl=en&fs=1&]

…And so I hear I have to write, so I’m told I have to write, so I tell myself I have to write.

…I think some things are best written. Some things should not be lived or said.

…But layed somewhere they can make sense and translate into a reality that one can handle.

…I’ve lived without Words for too long.

…I’ve lived things that should’ve been written.

…I’ve said too much.

…I’ve forgotten how deep my waters run.

…Having to breath was a good reminder.

The world is full of noise yeah
I hear it all the time
You know I am your dagger
You know I am your wound
I thought I heard you whisper
It happens all the time
I thought I heard you whisper
It happens all the time
-Dagger by Slowdive

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CczmMDvQDa0&hl=en&fs=1]

Fatiguée, fatiguée, comme toutes les bonnes raisons, entassées les unes sur les autres dans le fond du garde-robe, le poids d’excuses et de justifications et de rêves fait trembler et s’effondrer les supports. Comme il n’existe plus rien, que la raison est ensevelie et suffoque, comme il fait noir, que mes doigts frappent le mur sans arrêt à chaque tentative de retrouver le nord, surtout. C’est un grand paragraphe qui n’a rien retenu, que la folie de l’absence de vigules, que l’essouflement du manque de points. C’étaient des mots, c’était vrai, mais les reliefs usés d’être frôlés, comme des sous noirs, sur lesquels on ose pas s’attarder. Et déboule le temps et ses significations boîteuses, ses promesses sans scrupules brisées et ses parties sans cesse gagnées contre nous. Rien, plus rien du tout. Que des fils, si minces qu’on plisse des yeux, qu’on se convainc de les voir, si brillants et forts qu’ils étaient. Dans un étang je suis née, dans un étang je vis toujours. La vie qui m’entourre suit son cycle, de lumière et d’ombre, de souffle et pierre, de départs et d’arrivées. D’arrivées et de départs. Sous mes pieds l’eau. Et le noir. Et l’enclos. Qui s’écroule.

I am a swan

If (Waters) 4:30If I were a swan, I’d be gone.
If I were a train, I’d be late.
And if I were a good man,
I’d talk with you
More often than I do.

If I were to sleep, I could dream.
If I were afraid, I could hide.
If I go insane, please don’t put
Your wires in my brain.

If I were the moon, I’d be cool.
If I were a book, I would bend for you.
If I were a good man, I’d understand
The spaces between friends.

If I were alone, I would cry.
And if I were with you, I’d be home and dry.
And if I go insane,
And they lock me away,
Will you still let me join in the game?

If I were a swan, I’d be gone.
If I were a train, I’d be late again.
If I were a good man,
I’d talk with you
More often than I do.