“The memory has as many moods as the temper, and shifts its scenery” — George Elliot
Plastic bicycle handles gripped tightly by freezing hands.
I know it’s too big a promise to keep, but I promise to ache for nothing more.
Autumnal breeze against the face, shakily floating downhill without a trace of inhibition.
I know it’s a promise I won’t keep, but I promise to never ache. I won’t ache.
Mud paths and wild flowers. Wheezing breaths from a free, painless body and a vacant mind.
I know it’s a promise I’ve repeated, but I promise to forget how to ache.
On an endless path of rushing past trees. A field to the left and a forest to the right. The path to making no choices. Making no claims.
It’s a futile promise, but I’ll make it anyway — for I rather not ache.
Flying/floating/crying down forevermore. Tears, wind and the smell of earth. The journey towards a foggy sea cliff.
I promise to never ache... Only until I touch an open wound. Then I’ll break.
Is it alright to stay for impossible dreamscapes? Like c(r)ycling to a seaside cliff. Ice skating on an empty rink. Awakening refreshed on a perfect 5am. Bare horseback on flat earth. A directorial debut. A vibrant prose. An unforsaken heart. Wooden floors. Cat nuzzling. A full stomach and a quenched thirst for the unrequited. Cobblestones. Cosmic celestial constellations. Not a single ounce of pride. No more an ordeal to be unknown or known. A melodic voice. A restful sleep. A growing fondness through dance. Reflections without apprehensions.
If man is torn in half, what seeps out first: his blood or his spirit? If his spirit is polite, it will follow etiquettes and quietly await for the crimson paint to scrape off the white walls, before bidding adieu to his home. Hat in hand.
If his spirit is caged, it will race out without fair warning. It will run along manically towards its own farewell. With each step — forgetting all the pure memories of his home. Crimson and ivory bones.
I dedicate this unfathomable piece to my soundcloud playlist by the name of: “_(._.)_”. My brain just plays a never-ending music video and I can’t tell my visions from realness; which is I guess called turning your dreams into a reality.
