Lift the velvet curtains to Alex's beautiful mind

Alexander William Gaskarth

The world's getting smaller. I bit the tongue I had placed in my cheek years prior and let it all soak in. I no longer live in a reality suitable for the grateful, because I exist in a world of luxury, and I don't know how to share such luxuries with others. I feel so ungrateful. I've made friends with irony, and I wonder if perhaps, I'm hanging with the wrong crowd. --If its any consolation, I really do love all of you.

I blur the lines that define who I am and where I'm going to be, I break down walls and build bridges that span the sea, These hands catch fire and ignite the things I hold dearest to me, so what is the consequence, when I've got the whole world at my finger tips?

I set foot on the train tracks, the very place I was forbidden to go, and I was terrified. What's a boy to do, when his curiosity abounds, and the faint and haunting sounds, taunt a tireless youth to step up to the confession booth, where not a single thing adds up, and a guilty verdict's met by some wandering fool's bad luck. Open the gates to a stranger, as in the eye of God he was all he could be; himself, unafraid and blindly defiant, young, abrasive, yet soft, pliant. He had served his years, and his God had not lived those days, those hours, those minutes, those seconds. His God had not tasted those drinks, and kissed those lips, he had not tried on those clothes, or watched the countless numbers of doors close, he had not noticed the pair of eyes shedding the tears with every death witnessed, the pair of feet, unfailing and reliable, the pair of hands, curious and calloused, or the memories longing to be told as tales, again and again for centuries. Arrogant boy, love yourself so no one else has to, and when they lock the gates before you, find a way to climb them.

Manage me, I am a mess, swept under the rug of yesterday's home improvement, a whimsical urge tossed aside for the easy reassurance of home and comfort. I am the photograph tucked away as a book-mark, in a book left half unread, once reopened to find memories crawling back into peripheral sight, faded, creased and lonely. I long to be admired, long to be held, torn and laughed at, laughed with, like a distant relative or an old friend breathing in their last breath. I missed the moment when time collapsed and memory was erased, replaced by finicky social experiments, lost in the blur of intoxication, sucked through multi-colored bendy-straws, making way for a spinning world where hub-caps stood still, but our vision didn't. If I could leave you with only one thing, it would be small, foldable, and made from trees, with a few careless words, scribbled in blue; Take a minute to learn me, take a moment to love me, because I need your love to live, and without it, I am nothing.

Settling into my hotel room - Hollywood, California, I've been jet-setting far too much recently, I swear I hold my breath every time the airplane's wheels skid against the tarmac. It used to be a pleasure to hide out amongst the clouds, now its a past-time activity - If only my thoughts would follow us down upon decent. I'm excited to be here - Excited to live in the moment, Excited to hold hands with fast times, because I go with the flow like spilled drinks.

Test. Test. Test...

It boiled down to wet paint smeared across a bedroom wall, just behind the television. Cover it up if its too dark to enjoy, but try to envision the perfect change. What if it all matched flawlessly? The edges of this room are too dark -  someone invited too many shadows into this place, and the floral curtains do nothing for me, but the furniture seems right as rain, albeit a little dusty. Change never hurt anybody. Besides, the darker the walls, the brighter the sky outside.