Quiet calls my name from the clouds.
I lost my wings,
a deafening reality.
Quiet calls my name from the clouds.

all around, “photo cheat sheet printout”
“your guide to song writing in five easy steps”

I hoard potential on pieces of paper
keep it close
like to touch them

but there are too many to hold in
my sometimes piano playing fingers

I feel, unreasonably,
when just one scribbled scrap
ends up under couch or thrown

but I wear hobbies like fast fashion
all ideas at once

with too much noise to hear
and only ever visiting

you stare at me
from across the room,
like im your rival.

im still not sure
if you hate me
or just dislike me.

maybe you're just waiting
for me
to trip
so you can say --

"i told you so"

we could've been friends --
could've been more than.

what did i do
to get put in this position?
do you even hate me?
am i a rival to you?

because im too tired
of pretending
that there's nothing here.
because the silence
is too loud,
it burns my head.

i want to work this out,
where the static
can turn
to rhythm.

when the silence
finally
vanishes
and the burning
stops.

The almond blossoms:

everyone comes here to watch!


Cars! And radios!

this music pleases me
it has the riffs
heavy bass and thundering drums
a singer whose voice
sounds like gravel and ice

but it doesn't excite me
there is plenty but not enough
there is emotion but stunted
there is noise but too controlled
I want them to hear them play
like no one is listening

Μέσα σε όνειρα και σε εφιάλτες
Τόσες ευκαιρίες και πρόσωπα σβησμένα
Βήματα που έγιναν με βάρος και με τόλμη
Και τελικά πήγαν χαμένα

Μέσα στη ζούγκλα ένα άγριο ζώο
Που δε ζητάει ποτέ αυτό που θέλει
Βρες το κάτω από το δέρμα
Σκάψε εντός, κοίτα στον καθρέφτη

Είναι ένα παζλ που του λείπουν κομμάτια
Είναι ένα αίνιγμα που του λείπουν στοιχεία
Μια πόλη στον θόρυβο πνιγμένη
Και ποιος ο λόγος μου να μείνω;

Όπου κι αν δείχνουν τα σημάδια
Όποια κατεύθυνση κι αν δίνουν
Εκείνη─      μισεί εμένα
Και εγώ─    νιώθω το ίδιο

Can't get this page to fill
This pen is bleeding white noise

Creators are made off their failures
And achy finger joints

I'm digging untill my back breaks
Silence I won't accept

I promise
Next time I'll feel the words
I'll write
If they return

Despite the talk and chatter,
the laughter and giggles--
I find there is quiet in the noise,
just me and my mind in a silent room.