kyle[...à.jamais.ceci...]

a zion. a mesa. above the miles of flat, parched graveland.
i have a thing for human hearts...i'm not sure why...
is it wierd to anyone that i think the sound of a girl choking is hot?
i embrace my desire
to feel the rhythm,
to feel connected,
enough to step aside and
weep like a widow,
to feel inspired,
to fathom the power,
to witness the beauty,
to bathe in the fountain,
to swing on the spiral
to swing on the spiral
to swing on the spiral of
our divinity and
still be a human
i think i have come to find some sort of peace with how many things have come to be...a tiny voice from the past unknowingly, and unintentionaly reminded me its not what i am, but what i can be...
i want to be alone.
but more importantly i want to have a sense of calm determination about it..a sense of class to weather the trials thrown at me. i want to be unmoved at the sight of them...
i want to be cold.
i want to be all the things i was trained not to be...i opened up, i spread my chest, i freed the bird....i didn't so much as hear the call of 'pull' and the following shot as i did feel it...i want to know that in death there is an end...for with out an end there can never be a new beginning...
i want to be distant.
for with this end comes a sense of self, and with a sense of self there must be a sense of self preservation, otherwise this end is just a stalling, and this is not a cycle...a sense of isolation rivaled only by that of ancient japan...only there will be no Commodore Perry to force open this port...
i want to be the one
the one who finds rest beneath shade trees of distant lands...the one who takes strong winds and rough seas and glass with the same knowing smile...the smile of roads traveled and adventures had..i want to be the one who finds home far from where i am...a constant...a constellation...it comes and goes with its cycles so that i may forget its beauty and be amazed with my own...
i want to be more amazed with the thin layers of light and tissue on your frame than the carefully fabricated colors of your face...your circulatory system is a dragon constantly eating its tail and still you search for answers elsewhere...be calm...find rest...see not the restrications of words, but find that there is more beauty in them then every artical of clothing you own...
i will become lost in your blood stream and trust Mnemosyne to guide me home...but you...you are lost in this world already...and these words are not for you...for one day you will return to your home and find it burned to the ground, and you will seek answers and find that no one in the village recognizes you, and you will be trapt with the knowledge that if you had only returned to open arms, you may have died in them...to be born new... to be begun
this is not a story. its a memory.
and i want to be the one found waiting in the still warm ashes when you come home too late