I am from 6 strings. From the warm chords and notes, that lulls me into a different state. Seems to freeze time and emotion.
I am from the comfort the euphoria brings. From the loneliness, of spending hours alone. The happiness, that is always so sure to come. And the fatigue caused from the heartbreak of a loss.
I am from the painful eyes of care. That won’t last forever. That is taken from me too soon. I stare into the departed’s eyes of mans best friend, of my best friend. I’ve face premonitions that I hoped would help me prepare for my inevitable loss, help me prepare for the part of me that will fade to ashes. The remnants of remembrance that only show sorrow and tears.
I am from the wheels that roll me away. Into the new, back to the old. The familiar perceptions of ease remind me that my perpetual hopes may never arrive.
I am from the desolation. That I pass through too quickly. But try to stay as long as possible, the revelations of my inner being, teaching me about myself.
I am from the soft words. Spoken to comfort, spoken to cripple. Spoken from close love, whose words only seem to contradict, spawning my confusion.
I am from the improvisation, that illuminates new worlds, Inhabited by only myself. The new patterns and sounds that symbolize improvement pull me into its own separate dimension.



I’m from separation that segregates me, from everything I want. But locks me in with everything I have. The envy of others that only reassures me of myself.