I promise you a heart you’d promise to keep
Music is my muse. My source. My Elixir.
Nothing else of this world speaks to me or can do what it does to me like music.
To simply hear the first few notes of a song can whisk me a way to a state of mind I had forgotten years ago and re-instill the emotions as they were back then, not diluted and faded as I tend to see them now. To the look in her eyes and the torment that sit just behind her masks of lust & lush.
With hearing the chime-y echo of a chord, my heartstrings are pulled back to the glow of a fire and I can once again hear the voices of those around me and smell the sweet smoke and sands that surround me.
When I hear that tinge of a vibrato in his voice, I feel all the anger that’s bottled up inside and the warmth of the blood across my knuckles just as clearly as the primal screams that followed. Even the scarlet my world was tinted is as clear as crystal.
A deep, driving bassline and a thunderous kick drum can wrap this body in a cocoon of anticipation and tension, and seal my focus on a single goal that I, once again crave to reclaim. I am without a doubt in my soul, that I will not fail, I will not falter until I again hold my prize.
The overloading and overbearing distortion intertwined with the chest-rattling powerful scream of that guitar sinks my heart to the blackest that I was left in in that moment of realization and infatuation. I feel not only as used and severed as I once struggled under, but I also feel the self-torture of the knowledge and memory of how I was just as guilty as the one I judged on her knee before me.
And somewhere between a pledge to defend and retracing a path to a forgotten memory, I find myself, again lost in a torrid of confusion and loss, not wanting to feel. Wishing to block out what has happened, to go back to the ignorance I held when I last held her hand.
At the end of it all, comes a brittle acoustic guitar and a lyric. One that for me means freedom and collapsing. Destruction and rebirth.
