The Lady In Black

Why do I feel safer in the night sky than I do in the bright day?

A name is like leaves on the wind. Sometimes they remain, stuck to the window. Other times they fly away into the ether. Never to be seen again. Then new ones grow, bigger, stronger, more vibrant. Life and decay all in one beautiful cycle

Music is a beautiful language. It unlocks something deep in your soul, that resonates like a harmonising crystal. You know its right when you stop playing and feel tears. Never forget it.

Sometimes I'll whisper to a wall. You never quite know what inhabits it.

I dont know why red is inside me. Why it lurks deep in my chest, waiting and biding its time. Perhaps its one of the many dearly departed, trapping some horrendous unfinished business deep within my core.

Perhaps its simply my inability to cope

Ive awoken to the same old dance. Same old question droning in my ear. Same old statement and apology carted to me before I've had a chance to stir to life.

If i mumble my name maybe I'll remember who I am before I become feral

Some nights I want to take a stone to the reflection and smash the glass until its sand. Until its nothing more than diamonds on the floor and scream until I taste iron. That beast is not the one I see inside me and that frightens me

I have created, or was driven to by whatever spirit lurks deep within, to create a space.. on tumblr. If you wish to see more of my writings, you may find me there

The burning question that fuels many a lonely soul.

Sometimes air is harder to breathe than water. Unless youre a fish.

She is my conductor, I am her instrument. Through me, she crafts harmonics and tones. I am her Instrument. She is the puppet master, I am her instrument.

Drip drip goes the rain. Peering up I see the drops fall into my eyes. I wonder, how did I get here? And she whispers in my ear, "we flew"

Sometimes I feel like my Jackson Warrior is silently judging me. It makes disparaging comments about me behind my back.

Tick-tock goes the clock on the wall. Witching hour past and im not alone. Never alone. Yes.. who needs a ouija board when your mind is swimming the spirits of the departed

Sometimes my body takes me to a special place where the veil between the living and the deceased is thin, where you can reach out and they reach back.

So pray to music, build a shrine
Worship in these desperate times
Fill your heart with every note
Cherish it and cast afloat

'Cause God is in these clef and tone
Salvation is found alone
Haunted by its melody
Music, it will set you free (let it set you free)

You give, they take. You give, they take. You give, they take, they take, they take, take, take, take, take. Then they wonder why you cant give. So what do they do? They take.

I'm trapped in a world of mauve and lavender. Their cold hands the only thing reaching out to me. I have to take it. Lest I drown in hues of crimson and scarlet

Sometimes I wander through the fog. Those empty streets, just me and them. My radio hisses and if you listen carefully, you'll hear them too.

Morning is a time of rebirth, am I the same person as I was yesterday?

The whispers...no you're not the one...they never stop, guiding me. The spirits whisper sweet musings in my ear. My fingers move, this guitar neck my pen