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Chipped and sharp, my nails are no longer white. They are grey and apathetic to the skin surrounding them. This is not about the flame, but about the cold. This is not about the good, it is about the uncertain. This is not about the truth, it is about the mystery; anything could be true or false at this very moment. This is not about reality, it is about infinite possibility, the opposite of every impossibility you have ever entertained. 

My skin reacts to this, chills and rejection of the bland. Goosebumps because, just because. In this space of no flavor, nothing happens for the pleasure of your senses. In this state of being, comfort is extremely similar to boredom. In this kingdom of routine, the sun hides and winds blow, uncertain and unappreciated. My head rests, and my body slows, little motion brings forth less life. 

I bring music to my silence and he asks my imagination for a dance. His voice and his words ring and play on my nonchalance waking my curiousity and interest. I enjoy it. Softly, slowly, and quietly I anticipate the way his breath sounds in my ears. Violin, piano…and then percussion a simple perfection to my sleepy, bored and comfortable senses. Perfect. He asks about my feelings, he asks about my words, letters and emptiness in between. On repeat, two,three, four times I know his words now, I smile. One beat upon the next I find that I have been pacing around this space letter by letter. Step by step I trace the warmth of my letters, I press every word and I prepare my self. Silence will subside and I will transcend every wavelength, I will dance to the tune of a world of my making. 

For now, I dwell…

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You mess up my hair, my bed and my mind. You change my accent, my perspective and my expectations. You shake my shoulders and beat my brains with words and tunes. You lift everything up and then we both fall through the crevices of eachother. You have no reason but your want. You need nothing but your need. You are you and I’ve never known any you like you. You even make me write weird.
You dared to smash up the hardest work I’ve ever done. You had the nerve to break my barricade, you know no boundaries.
Let’s compete and see whose limits die first. Chase this fleeting insanity and choke it with ridiculously good music. You break my wall, I break yours. Then we are even. You permeate my space, I move into yours.
Close enough? We haven’t even begun yet, so don’t look away.

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Grey on fire

I close these eyes, its too grey outside and I look for color. It’s too tame outside and I am distant.
I am right here and I can’t move my head. I can’t grab sound and music is everything I want. And just as that bass drops, my mind crashes and it splashes all over that naive little heart of mine. Chaos; just waves and vibrations orchestrating a tragedy of thoughts and emotions meeting for the first time and losing themselves silently in incredible noise.
Strange and foreign splinters of an exploded self travel and unravel, shifting cells living and dying all inside one loud echoing song. Sentences lose structure and words break at the misery of needing sound this much. The clarity of a melody breaking down distance and ultimately handing you intimacy and diffusing it under your skin. You no longer seek touch and you are moved from the inside out.
Now that the song is ending the mess is becoming more apparent, and the story is becoming sadder and you can’t help but feel the loss of a leaving tune. You are still right were you are and still can’t move your head, but now you are sedated and elated. Your brain climbs quietly back up to where it belongs stumbling occasionally over residue of sound; and your little naive heart gathers itself together and beats again because that is the only thing it knows.
You open your eyes, it’s still grey outside; but this time you decide to pick yourself up and set that grey on fire.

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The day my friends turned into pigeons

Nothing is as psychotic as words on fire. Nothing is as absurd as a world thought to be eternal. Nothing breaks as pleasurably as a human being.
I never crawled, I never walked, I sometimes ran but all it ever really was me standing still. Always speaking about the chaos in my mind never made me stronger, only made me more descriptive and rather cynical. I took solace in that pleasure of a mad world that can never understand. I am wrong.
I do not want to be understood, I never did. I made myself feel special because pride wasn’t enough for me, I was never a believer of people’s words. They never changed anything.
And so I smash into walls built by my own bare hands, I bang my words upon the surface thinking I’m making a difference, believing I am leading a new era; a renaissance fueled by fumes. And I keep on writing I never stop. I write on walls, halls and future’s doors. I write on people and on paper. I write on my soul and I write on my skin. The only way I am able to breathe in reality and breathe out magic is this.
There is nothing as liberating as that flat line at the end of a full life. There is nothing as terrifying as that last heart beat; the grand finale.
So live my dear, anyway you wish, anyway you see fit. Just carry your own weight and listen to that music. You are always right.

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Tuesday Evening

Yet again I lay down on an ordinary Tuesday evening thinking to myself. I have music playing in the background giving every passing second a tune to call its own. I directly reach for my phone and I start writing because that is how I make myself useful.
I always have the urge to write yet I don’t always have much to say. Repetition scares me just as much as forgetfulness does. I must never fall victim of either. The two times I plan to indulge in absent mindedness are when I’m in love and when I’m senile; I just hope they don’t occur simultaneously.
Life is absurdly simple sometimes, one of those sometimes is right now. Do I dare explain my blessings or do I fear a year of bad luck? Well one of the perks of simplicity is the inability to comprehend complexity; hence the joy of mere living. Much talk and no real message? Well it is a little liberating to be able to just say whatever you want to say without the burden of contexualizing every word into meaning.
Not everything, nor everyday requires meaning. Sometimes looking at your ceiling, listening to some music and finding it impossible to dramatize, is the best situation for self inspection. Sometimes just draining the energy of the day through letters and words is the best therapy for a racing mind.
It’s ok to pause, it’s ok to pay attention to the lyrics of every song on your playlist just so you know what love means to that artist. Whether you have found any meaning or not is unnecessary tonight. So take your time and enjoy the fact that you are you right here and right now. We can’t control everything around us, so might as well take a step back and watch ourselves unfold.
I miss home.

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Music in NYC

What do i make of this daily experience? What do i make of this irrevocable loud performance of confusion? What does one know against all odds, in light of every undiscovered soul and unheard sound? How will i ever be certain of any single thing in life if my mind considers admitting any type of absolute as a form of human arrogance.
I run to music, i frantically and furiously inject it into my system. Then i listen, and i feel. It sterilizes fear and it emancipates certainty. Music entrances my chaos and suddenly my entire being is in zero gravity. Everything floats, even my thoughts.
I Silence the world with music.
Being alone has magnified my senses, and it has vagued my perceptions. Walking city streets with nothing surrounding me but cold concrete shooting into the skyline, i watch people and i watch lights; my mind does not rest here. Meanwhile, my heart smiles awkwardly at every possibility of human interaction. It stands in the corner waiting to be invited into this rave so it could finally taste the anarchy of this unrelenting musical.
Noise fades into symphonies when i am exhausted by the doubts of my mind. I fall asleep with a heavy heart caressed by some breathtaking tune. Dreams then take life and they dance me through every night.
Music is the reason. Thats the only certainty i know.

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My Recommended Playlist 2

And When My Heart is in dire need of company; Music steps in and brings back the Beat.

The Fray – Never Say Never

Ed Sheeran – Give Me Love

Sara Bareilles – Bright Lights and Cityscapes

Pink – Try

Mumford and Sons – Lover of the Light

Nic Chagall ft Jonathan Mendelsohn – This moment

Maria Mena – Homeless

Dash Berlin ft Jonathan Mendelsohn – Better Half of Me (acoustic)

Parachute – Kiss Me Slowly