a place to put words

maybe there is something beautiful in those voids. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VahuChwc_O8

i went through all this trouble to share a song i made and yet i cant seem to find out how. there may be some cruel irony in this. the moment i learn to open up i am stripped of the medium to do so. oh well, i underestimated the compassion of others to pay attention to my actions and dreamt of a version of me more able to connect with others. and at that point, what else is there but love? i want to be known and unknown, indecipherable yet just present enough that you search. i am not sure if i like what i am seeking, but i have always been one for the endless search. the meaningless hunt where the prize is as absurd as the notion that you even thought it was worth looking for. yet in its grand futility there is love and loss and beauty, the stuff of life!  maybe some day i will play it for you all, or maybe it will be lost in the catacombs of my head. it is heavy in here, maybe i should let it lay and rest

sometimes i think about those works of art and life that were never appreciated because of the circumstances of their or their creators existence. we often say that "because of ___ it was never shown to many, its opportunities to be loved foreclosed". i think that is wrong. people saw it, you didn't. cult classics are loved by the cult, you just thought they were too strange to resonate with what strangers find comfort in. maybe this is how i rationalize what should have been loved more. the thought that something so beautiful could have been destroyed by banal prejudice frustrates me. that someone could be denied to show the world their truth because they were born in the wrong time and place, but never the wrong body, saddens me. rather i believe they found their people, you were just never one of them. those who are disturbed find their comfort in things that are illegible to you. words with strange vowels that your tongue cannot capture. a syntax built of curves y

i want to live in a world of aesthetics. maybe not the future i was promised, but one nonetheless. a dreamers dystopia re-apropreated, with rain and flowers alike. i am sick of expectations and ambitions. i simply want to exist in the quiet stillness. i want to lie down until i rot. i love the aesthetics of sailor moon, or synthetic nightlife, of a future that never was. one that we were promised. i just want to do nothing and be okay with doing nothing. to sit and read and play the ukulale and talk with friends. but i cant. alas

the same people who tell me not to these things did when they were my age. those who tell me to watch my mouth curse when no one is around. those who tell me not to lie had fake IDs. are we destined to keep up this rouse? continue it because we have no other conception of how it could have been? i wonder if they think the alternative is worse, or maybe they simply learned from their mistakes. destined to break the rules, destined to reinscribe them, and so the dance continues. who you once were and who you are now, i wonder if there is a difference.