Free your mind to free your soul to free your heart to clear your lungs, to clear your eyes, to clear your life.

You hold the key to the past, present, future. You are who you are, what you will be, what you want to be, who you aspire to be. Don’t stop, don’t regret, don’t beat yourself up, and keep moving forward, keep tasting the air for new things, keep reaching for the stars, keep trying to launch yourself at the universe, not just the sun. 

Thank you, mom. I know how hard it must be to have me. I love you. I wouldn’t be here today if you didn’t push through for 9 months and years after that.

If my thoughts were sand, it would cover the earth. There are dunes of it. Golden and burning under the magnificent sky—breathing; the sun a sight to behold—the horizon sizzling and crackling with every passing of the wind; you are a sight to behold.

Alas, I find myself, floating. Take me back to the beach, where the water is cold and the sun reflected off your eyes. Take me back to the shore, where the silence was gratefully taken in, simmering, inside labyrinths of machinery. My clockwork rusting with every wave of your voice when it resounded past my ears—keep talking, I whispered—you didn’t hear me. You wouldn’t hear me. I couldn’t hear me.

So tell me, why there are layers and layers of silence over the noise? Tell me why there are layers and layers of brick and tar and concrete and scrap metal, in all shapes and sizes, and tell me why it’s shut? There is a box inside there that is held shut so tight—what is it you’re hiding it from? What made it this way?

Wolfen—you are wolfen and rare and extravagant—you are harsh and wounded and complicated.
Where are you? I can’t find you. Your walls hide you from view. I can’t hear you. I don’t know you.

Please don’t waste the daylight.

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Sometimes, it just takes one song to make you write and write and write.

A resolution, my brain decides, fighting this maelstrom of thoughts and somehow you resonate through every cavity of my skull. Notes push through and a rhythm, a bump, thump, thump seize every word and disrupts the jury and the judge. Disrupts the signals back and forth. Rewire and restart, rewire and restart, can’t keep with the time, the clockwork’s malfunctioning. To disappear or not to disappear? You’re a headfuck.