The Pagan God of Music
A/N: It’s supposed to be for Kurt Cobain but really, it’s too obsessive and personal. It makes me sound like a psycho. At any rate, I did love him.
By: RDV
You never sang; instead you sent electricity from the ground, not from the skies, branching its line at your command as they caught up with me, wrapped me around their coils until breath was plundered out of me.
You never opened your mouth; instead you blew a spell my way, bewitching my eyes, hurling me down to my knees in the very act of worship, so much so that at the time you were the only god that inspired fear and awe in me.
You never bared your teeth; instead you pushed them back behind your lips only to reveal a more marvelous spectacle. I saw instead the beauty of your face in repose; I saw instead the reflection of myself, fading, losing its identity to you with the sincerest willingness.
You never let your voice out of your throat; instead I heard the music, rattling, monopolizing my ears, molding them against the imprints that you carved so tirelessly out of love and endeavor. Its echoes journeyed forth, still, long after you departed. I can still name the notes and pick them up from the havoc of a chaotic medley, somehow, and see your body issue out of the thickness of their melody, your picture ever so vivid, ever so distinct from everything it was set against.
You never really made yourself felt; instead I chose to seek you, starting from nowhere, getting lost in the middle of this labyrinth whose end was never near and never really was the end. It goes on, stretching away from the beginning, miles after miles, to live forever. You plunged me in to the depth of your existence so now I became you, the twin of your soul, the inseparable ghost that lingers anon, searching not for salvation which I know won’t bring you back.
You never were gone to me; instead you were never there. I grasped on a specter that didn’t know it was alive, that didn’t know it was but a fraudulent vision of a dream resulting from cumulated pining. The trigger was pulled even before you rose to hold the microphone, even before the world had beheld you and even before you plucked the first strings on your instrument of victorious snare. You were never meant to last. After all, you were nothing but a fleeting perfection; and I, the child beguiled, premature, unwittingly misled. I am only one of the many bearers of the scars you left behind.
By: RDV
You never sang; instead you sent electricity from the ground, not from the skies, branching its line at your command as they caught up with me, wrapped me around their coils until breath was plundered out of me.
You never opened your mouth; instead you blew a spell my way, bewitching my eyes, hurling me down to my knees in the very act of worship, so much so that at the time you were the only god that inspired fear and awe in me.
You never bared your teeth; instead you pushed them back behind your lips only to reveal a more marvelous spectacle. I saw instead the beauty of your face in repose; I saw instead the reflection of myself, fading, losing its identity to you with the sincerest willingness.
You never let your voice out of your throat; instead I heard the music, rattling, monopolizing my ears, molding them against the imprints that you carved so tirelessly out of love and endeavor. Its echoes journeyed forth, still, long after you departed. I can still name the notes and pick them up from the havoc of a chaotic medley, somehow, and see your body issue out of the thickness of their melody, your picture ever so vivid, ever so distinct from everything it was set against.
You never really made yourself felt; instead I chose to seek you, starting from nowhere, getting lost in the middle of this labyrinth whose end was never near and never really was the end. It goes on, stretching away from the beginning, miles after miles, to live forever. You plunged me in to the depth of your existence so now I became you, the twin of your soul, the inseparable ghost that lingers anon, searching not for salvation which I know won’t bring you back.
You never were gone to me; instead you were never there. I grasped on a specter that didn’t know it was alive, that didn’t know it was but a fraudulent vision of a dream resulting from cumulated pining. The trigger was pulled even before you rose to hold the microphone, even before the world had beheld you and even before you plucked the first strings on your instrument of victorious snare. You were never meant to last. After all, you were nothing but a fleeting perfection; and I, the child beguiled, premature, unwittingly misled. I am only one of the many bearers of the scars you left behind.
posted by Ria D. at
9:47 PM
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