Today I needed to write, not because I have a lot to say–cause I don’t, not because I need to let off steam–cause it won’t change a thing, not because I need to get my word out to the world–cause I don’t give a fuck what these monsters have to say. Today I needed to write, because the silence has turned me into the devil I always feared, because these days need to be remembered, by me, the watcher, the reader, the guardian, the amnesiac god trapped in a cage of flesh, the Antichrist defying his own fate, the speck of dust with the burden of a dying Sun, the aimless ape who cared for those who hate.

There are things you need to know, there are things you need to do, just because you’re not dead yet. I read some of your old words, I looked at your old work, I dug up the broken memories of fading souls and dead angels who once stood by your side. You were someone, you were something, you were once a promise for a Phoenix that will never rise again, you were the dream of a battle won for a shape-shifting Raven, you were an artist with a hand that drew all that once was not, and a musician that overfed the strings of a bass with the melodies of a Baroque quartet, you were a saviour, a troubleshooter, a problem solver, an adviser, an inspirer, and now I look at you…

Today I write, cause I’m struggling to find the words, I write cause I’ve grown tired of the nothingness that I’ve created around myself. I write for myself to read these my words again, then feel ashamed, then delete the page and fail myself again.

For how long is it safe to smile, while the unwept acid tears flow backwards into your core, burning all that comes their way, along with the memories, the dreams, the hopes, the plans, the screams, and the corpse of an innocence once lost.

“Nailed to a cross of my denial
Bleeding streams of guilt and shame
For I await in this my trial
When ashen crows mention my name”

H.Q.
20:49
Sunday
03/03/2013