And so we begin in me. For this is a story about me. No raconteur is held accountable to the retelling of this story. I want you to hear me from my own words. I want you to see me in my own person. But can you really see me? I’m afraid not.
You never really did. Now look at me. Look at me. If only you looked closer. If only you’ve tried, you’ll notice that my eyes weren’t glassy. They are perpetual embers, fixed upon the blazing horizon, unfazed of the battling bewildered and despair. I was always at the edges where no years, streets or even candid films could touch.
I have learned to walk my own path, away from the implacable gallows, far from Beelzebub’s grasp. I’m on my own now for a long time since. I started anew. No sin I dare committed. No mistake I never repaid.
I am not the people from my past. I am not the wrong choices I made. I’m not the moon, trapped in someone’s gravity. I’m not a twig tangled in a creep. I am not the seasons dependent of the sun.
I could never be a saint, would not consent to martyrdom. You could’ve killed me quickly, but truth is you can’t.
It has always been about me. I am illusive. I am god and I am evil. No one could touch me. Not even the nightmares of the past. Not even a wailing irony. I am an old painting. Remember what John Piper said? Good paintings in the long run tell their own story – though not in words – for those who have intent eyes, an open mind and much patience.
From here on I will not allow words of uninvited people to penetrate my storyline. Again, this is my story. And no pretentious past could tell my story, least of all introduce me as my person. I have pleaded on many counts. I have spared many souls and many nameless faces in preservation of mankind’s sanity. I won’t allow it anymore. I won’t allow you, no more. This matter, I will tackle with my hands, and no more that it won’t be stained by blood. I promise. I promise.
Now we begin in me. Look closer, but don’t come closer. This is the last time you’ll truly see me. Take a moment and look beyond your paradoxical deluded eyes. Now tell me. Did the past reduce me? Blur me?
The endeavor to attain strength and clarity alone lies beyond; searching for differ ways, always looking for truer answers.
we got desperate desires and unadmirable plans
my tounge will taste the gin and malicious intent
bring you back to the bar get you out of the cold
a sober straight face gets you out of your clothes
and their scared, that we know
all the crimes they commit
who they'll kiss before they get home
I will lie awake
lie for fun and fake the way I hold you
let you fall for empty word I say
-Me vs. Madonna vs. Elvis by Brand New