Indigo Blind

again.

God: Yes, it’s all you can do.

You're floating on an iceberg, going nowhere, with only the edge of the world in sight. Someone's beckoning you to shore but all you can see is their shadow. They call towards you, "Do you believe in ghosts?" "No," you whisper. But then you feel a shiver down your spine. There's nothing around you but the creaks and cracks of life on a frozen sea. Oh don't you wonder, what it's like to build a house on ice? Feel the ever collapsing presence of earth-bound dreams. Are your bones dissimilar to frozen chasms storing fish and seal meat for the village meal? The constant drippings of snow-caked roofs plotting your path through the collection of shutterless windows. It's 2:00 am but yet home is no longer dark and silent but rather full of an eternal lucent and beamy sun. Oh how the snowcapped glaciers stand in high contrast to the dusky bleary din. A watching hour for those restless souls who never slept at night. Now an excuse presents itself for the restless winter wanderer. An interminable path across the arctic twilight. Inspired by Journey to Greenland (2016) Directed by Sébastien Betbeder

New recycled journal with some doodles and collage work.

I lost the best parts of myself To you and you To the little things you hate About me I wish to be A ghost A tree Lay me down And leave me To curl into the earth The profane soul You found Among the wet leaves Paradise

"We should all listen to each other because we can all learn from each other. Rejecting another's idea and superimposing your own over it doesn't do much to expand ones knowledge and just allows one to accept that they are right. It does not however, help one come up with solutions to rectify the duality of opposite ideas."

I am my own desert savior Fell out of the habits of growing up Started growing high Filling my mind with a new form of life Rhythms of being fill my soul Hold me in Clutch me tight when I'm falling I hold on one last time And breathe out feeling sand in my throat Aberrations of my own losses Played out in the fixations of yesterday My spine stands tall Like a fixed point on a lightning rod I wait one more time for something Some jolt of electricity I wait I suppose for some flowers maybe To grow out of my prickly spine But we can't wait that long We'll just grow old I grip to something Maybe anti-everything Wanting, wanting But this place doesn't provide So I release my grasp My spine goes slack and my ribs contract There's no flowers growing inside my bones Maybe virility doesn't rely on life Maybe virility relies on discarding fixations

One of my friends took a poem of mine I recorded and turned it into a song. Go give it a listen, it’s really rad!

ft. Incredible desolation and loneliness in all those dark windows

Boys turning unto men Their archaic fire dance As old as time itself Wrestling by moonlight And breaking apart rhythms To reveal complex secrets They hold inside themselves The rabid beast Which sees nothing But wild woods before them And the water to break With their slender bodies Rushing away from something And towards time itself