Absolutely Miles Away …too many clouds, too little time…

mindspill

Songwritten. When we played it, eyes could not look, for fear of seeing something wrong.

In front of a microphone. Screaming out for help. Scratching any remaining semblance of voice away, with sandpaper made of nails. Taking it in.  Quietly, quietly.  Walking away.

I can’t begin to explain exactly how trying to purge your demons feels like. Until you have demons to purge, it’s nigh on impossible to understand. Sort of like riding up a mountain, whose sides are a treadmill. You pedal faster; the peak is further away, and all you’re doing is pedalling frantically.

All we created now wants to be destroyed. The notes shall be plucked one by one from the stave, thrown into a grey box, locked down with a lead padlock.

The box will be thrown into the sea.

You know where.

Purging your demons feels like … well, feels like that post. Your words.

Long may your mind spill.

thank you kindly, Mr Witness. Please consider the thought returned, especially in your eloquent manner.

Wow. That raised the hairs on the back of my neck. This is reading someone else’s writing and you just realize that they feel exactly how you did at one point in your life. It’s wierd that you have never told them anything specific or any of the feelings.

All I can say is WOW.

its nice to hear how words affect people; we all use different language but some words resonate specifically.

thanks :)