Chapter Text
Midas
I'm in an empty void, but not just the closing your eyes sort, it’s a more genuine, infinite black. I can’t see my hands, but I know what they look like. They are wizened, aged. I try to touch my face, but all I feel are folds upon folds of wrinkles and skin. I cry out, but the voice comes from behind me. I turn around. It’s me, my real face, staring back at me, tear stricken and terrified. I adjust my tie because I’m wearing a suit and a bird flies in front of my face. It's obscuring my vision. I need to get to the boy. I need to get back to myself. Why is he running away? Why does he look so scared and…
What’s my name?
Rain
The rain crawls across my back, trailing down my face as if the little droplets were tears.
It stings, but I'm all too used to it. Pain and pleasure go hand in hand, after all.
Like the needles, like the cuts, like the burning sensation at the back of my throat - that painting of the snake is always still there, still watching, still waiting, it wants to claim me. It coils around my neck, my breathing slows, I am in ecstasy.
The water tastes beautiful, the smell of the damp pavement calls my name
I can feel the rain.
Emily
“I don’t know if I'll make it home in time, Emily.”
You smile knowingly, but you say nothing. I think you’re trying to comfort me. I think you’re hoping I never find out how miserable we both really are.
I can’t sleep, there are little worms feeding on what’s left of my mind - I don’t want to worry her, I'll just swallow down my pills, I’ll just count my sheep.
The apples in the fruit bowl have gone rotten, we need to buy new ones. I don’t want to worry her, I’ll just work harder.
Stuck in this cage, this endless routine, this empty machine of little whispers. They want to eat my memories before I have time to make them.
I’m sorry I couldn’t make it home in time for Christmas, Emily.
Silver
I point the gun at his head, he doesn’t beg for his life. I think there’s a part of him that knows what he is, I think he knows he deserves this.
Something strange, I hear singing from within this voidlike endless plane.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
From out there, it sounds more like screaming…
I chuckle.
“You clipped her innocent wings, unraveled her mind and replaced it with the darkness of your own. Now you beg me to fill you with silver instead of lead.”
He turns away from reality to face me, he can’t bring himself to say it anymore.
“I’m s-"
Arizona
I'm not going to do one for Arizona. It's pretty obvious what the song is about and it's extremely personal to Jacob. Even something written by a skilled writer would be in bad taste let alone something written by me.
Superman
Eagles screech, and the world listens. Eagles soar, and the world watches.
A momentary state of slow, calm bliss before the rage, the panic, the fire, the anger, the hatred, the sadness and the laughter that sounds a lot more like choking.
I've reached maximum speed, it never stops, no end in sight.
I’m soaring, now everyone knows. Everyone sees.
My family, my friends. They think that they know me. If only they could see me like this, if only they could see this fire inside me, my sad little secret, my burden to bear.
They wouldn’t believe me if I told them anyway.
July
21st July 1997
Dear Diary,
I don’t know where I am, but at least it’s not the hospital. They tell me it’s my bedroom but I don't recognise it, there's little white flies blooming on the windowsill and little white flowers sleeping there.
I complain about the silence, why doesn’t the phone ever ring?
No one takes me seriously, but it’s too exhausting to keep the mask held to my face.
I jerk myself awake. My head sears, I'm slipping in and out of consciousness. There's a sting in my left arm.
On second thought diary, this is peaceful, I’m at ease.
I’d happily die here!
Cathedrals
Searing, scorching, building, burning.
All for you, I did this all for you. I destroyed myself, I became someone else just for you. My entire being - wrapped in endless sin. I burnt away my purity for you.
I did this for you, now have your way with me, I’ll let you hurt me, show me beauty, show me pain.
Burn me.
Engulf me in your flames.
Make my body sear in agony, I want to feel it in my veins and I want to see the pride and I want satisfaction to line your face as I annihilate myself.
Just for you.
Girl
Angeline doesn’t know I've been watching her for about 2 months now.
She loves to be coy, play hard to get. But I've seen the way she smiles at me.
She's my girl, my girl, my girl and I will kiss her beneath the pier and lose myself in the light of her radiance as she takes me in her arms and my bed will not be cold it will not be cold it will not be cold because she’ll be sleeping next to me
Angeline.
Angeline…
I’m going to make my move today.
Why is she screaming?
But it’s beautiful , like thousands of angels erupted in song all at once, dissonant pleasurable harmonies of sorrow, as if someone had pinned them by their picturesque wings to a scrapey corkboard to marvel at their beauty.
Aeroplane
I wish I could just fly away from it all. A highlight of my childhood bedroom was a model plane, dangling from the ceiling by sellotaped string. I used to imagine myself shrinking to the size of a pilot that could fit in it, and I'd fly away, far away through the clouds and over the buildings.
But now that plane is broken, the windows are shattered, the wings snapped in half. I need help rebuilding it. Won’t you help me fly?
I don’t care if it’s a waste of time, I want to fly.
I want the air to violently whip my face as the rumble of the propeller shakes me like the aggressive tremolo picking of an electric guitar, and I want you there with me along the way.
Propel me. Waste your time.