It started with a low light,
Next thing I knew they ripped me from my bed
And then they took my blood type
It left a strange impression in my head.
I sit here in the dark silence listening to the chirp of a cricket that slipped through a crack somewhere and got stuck in my azure room with blue flowered curtains. In the light of day, the colours and the flowers make me want to scream. Usually I don’t scream because that would scare everyone.
Knowing what is appropriate is a feat that I sometimes fail to accomplish. But I do know that to scream for no reason would be inappropriate I do have a reason, though.
You know that I was hoping,
That I could leave this star-crossed world behind
But when they cut me open,
I guess I changed my mind.
To silence the voices in my head. That’s would be why. There was four of them to begin with. Well, one of the voices was mine so I should probably only count three. But four is the right count.
I sit on the tiled floor in the dark. The cricket sounds like it is on the other side of the room. I don’t know. The tiled floor is cold. And the voices whispering interrupts the chirp of the cricket. Earlier, the sunset spilled into the room through the little gaps where the curtains split. They spilled dusty rays, pretty rays and I could ignore the flowered curtains for a moment.
And you know I might
Have just flown too far from the floor this time
Cause they’re calling me by my name
And the zipping white light beams
Disregards the bombs and satellites
The voices, they speak in whispers. The one stutters, always doubting itself, asking questions.
Is it right? No, it can’t be. I was sure it was right? Is it wrong? Oh dear, what shall I do? What shall I say?
And the other, a vicious selfish little demon, bursting to tears when the others don’t listen. Tears, I cannot see the tears. I can only imagine the tears as the demon talks as if it is choking while it says vicious hateful things.
You blustering bastard! Why do you let me make all the difficult decisions? We must, we must and we must… Oh, God, I can’t handle this.
And the former, God? Do you even believe in God?
I am God!
And the former, No, you aren’t. I can’t deal with this. I must go.
You coward. You stupid thoughtless, senseless coward.
And she steps in, I think she is a she. Her voice is soft, but she can get as vicious as the one who thinks she is God. Only she has no tears. Just icy vicious hatred.
Hmmm… Is all she says now. To share the stage with a vicious little demon who thinks it is God would be a faulty plan. No, she will wait until the tears recede and then she will launch her attack. And then she will shine. For whom, I wonder. Only I know that she lives in my head. But she hopes, does she not?
You are all lazy, idiotic cowards. Every single one of you. Look at you, sitting in the dark when there is glorious light to bask under. Get up, get out, do something!
They don’t listen, not even the quiet one who hardly talks. When I think of her, the quiet one, I imagine that she wears mufflers and eye pads and pretend that if she cannot see them they will soon forget that she exists.
That was the turning point
That was one lonely night
The star maker says, “It ain’t so bad”
The dream maker’s gonna make you mad
The spaceman says, “Everybody look down
It’s all in your mind”
She does, doesn’t she? I listen to her, waiting for her to say a word. But she doesn’t. It is like she is lost in her dark world, wallowing in a pain that only she can know. I know she is there. I wonder if some day she will be unable to bear the azure, the curtains, the cricket and the voices. And then what?
Well now I’m back at home, and
I’m looking forward to this life I live
You know its gonna haunt me
So hesitation to this life I give.
You think you might cross over,
You’re caught between the devil and the deep blue sea
You better look it over,
Before you make that leap
On a rare day, they will hum, as if in harmony. One song, one I can bear. One I can enjoy. And then they will be quiet. The stutterer, the demon, the diva and the quiet one. On a day like this, when I can enjoy the setting sun splaying gold over the deep blue sea. On a day like this when I can feel the white sand between my toes. On a day like this, they remain quiet, and let me be in the deep dark night.
And you know I’m fine,
But I hear those voices at night sometimes-
They justify my claim,
And the public don’t dwell my transmission
Cause it wasn’t televised
The thesis was that they once were best friends. I think they never were. To be a friend you must care for the other with everything that you have. But the voices, all of them were self-serving, sharing a space because… where could they go except remain in my head? And the mythology of why they came to be, it can never be told by who they came to be. It’s just a thesis. My antithesis.
My global position systems are vocally addressed
They say the Nile used to run from East to West,
They say the Nile used to run…
From East to West.
And you know I’m fine
But I hear those voices at night
It’s all in my mind.