Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo

l    i    f    e

medication

contributions
christopher@30seconds.org

archive

contributions

I've thought about running away recently. No place in particular, just anywhere but here, now. I've stumbled up to the tracks at night and touched the cold steel, rivets large as the palm of my hand, and thought but for the grace of something I'm still able to pry myself away and zig-zag back home. A favorite poet of mine once said,

"Then the spirit must begin once more,
untaming everything that it has tamed,
forgetting all that it has paid in blood,
until the the blazoned phrases melt from the vellum
and the gold-leaf initials turn into butterflies
and lift off the pages, climbing into space
to find the hidden planet all wild rose and chicory."

I feel that now to a certain degree. No to a large degree. I guess there really isn't much between. I feel as though I've sacrificed myself for something, thought I don't quite know what that something might be. I believed in the strength of the soul, or really the anima. I thought that if I worked it enough it would grow, tenuous at first then blooming into pure zealotry.

How feeble.

Hell, how wonderful.

What else was I to believe in? Stealing copper moments with friends. Those moments that bend so easy under the slightest pressure from the world around. Those moments that conduct with the flip of a switch. Those moments of shape, use, and control. Those moments of patience. Genuine moments...yeah.

Spritualized

Pure Phase

Track One

Tonight I'm crying...

goodnight 1.5.98