Minus One...

The remnants of plausibility needs no boundary, closed to possibility there is no longer a fine line between this passion and darkness. Swept in the chill of all phrases there is none to be unearth, none to be cordially caressed or soulfully sung. In this night, darkness and fame only stand, leftovers of past claims and future drains, the emptiness deafening to the current state of silence leads only back to this unlawfully soul, a spirit that one had never wished for, hoped for or even simultaneously imagined.  The presence of nothingness burns to the core, providing no room for rebirth. This incrimination of life finds no peace of mind or centers filled with value. The absence of integrity shines in the shadows and only bears yet another conclusion, false hopes perhaps. There is no tangible way to say this, so in an effortless fashion “you’ve lost one”, and that would be the only resolution, producing such a conclusion bringing nothing but the illusion that you ever had one, me, in the first place.

-EH

" "

“Misunderstood is what the fine print should say, how long this scroll of rules and regulations, but yet and still you demand my signature.”

-EH

Speechless...

This instrumental keeps playing over and over again. The unbearable sound of empty words creates the type of uselessness that would never tire. Hidden in the depths of 4/4, the metronome of mind and thoughts continues to pulsate in its most recognizable form, taking shape, the strong hold of this corset no longer exist in the matter of what once was. Intermittently, strings are pulled and style protrudes, opening the ears to past and future possibilities, explanations and contracts, surely unwritten, but scribed in Braille so only fingertips can begin to understand. Leading into the physical and gradually but reassuringly composing this unlawful feeling of purpose with promises toppled on chest and back, scratches an itch that will soon return. And after the fading of such suckling scents only the memory, hosting the capacity, will provide a melodramatic comfort, and as it was stated once before “sweet dreams” will then become doorways to the future. Only here and there in those moments will the discovery occur of what was once said to be true to you, only in your mind, becomes this fantasy. For you were neither here nor there, but just simply sleeping. 

-EH

Book Swept: Blue Like Jazz

Book Swept: Blue Like Jazz: "When I was in love I hardly thought of myself; I thought of her and how beautiful she looked and whether or not she was cold and how I could make her laugh. It was wonderful because I forgot my own problems. I owned her problems instead, and her problems seemed romantic and beautiful"
-Donald Miller

" "

"What lies beneath this pond on tears will soon emerge stronger and fierce"

-EH 

Daydreaming...

Feeling like a trip to Vegas would do no justice to this emotion. The utter thought makes no sense in reference to this emotion, unknown but not unable to acknowledge what that exactly is keeps the mind roaming, like a telephone call lost in translation, “ring, ring, ring”, eventually heard, receiving or hearing a click across the meter of some wire, somewhere, finding and awaiting those words, in any fashion of course, seeking but no longer hoping for something new, impressionable, something more so within reach then the heart that lays in your hands, her hands, his hands, whose hands, that of whom it was giving to, that of whom has the undeliverable gift to settle such a score, “cling” is the noise made by these silent swords. Now left in this state of what is merely a dream, continuing to defer what is true and visual, not near nor far-sighted can create a translucent appearance but only you can bring color, clear, fresh and airy combinations of what is willed for.
-EH 

" "

"There is only one scene to this preview for which you lack the ability to watch"
-EH