Like a shadow on a shadow, a phantom in a film strip, faint glimmer of the past trapped in mother's old slides, sits still in the apartment while sifting through some pictures ff the child that he once was and the sense of hope they framed. "It's a shame, "

And I fear that fate while the humming from the street keeps me awake. He says, "I let life get twisted. Get worn out, torn up, and late with the rent. And Now nothing makes sense except the bench and that piano, A feeling nearing order when I'm pressing down the chords."

And he plays, and it swells and breaks, but what'll it take to make my life sound like that. And brings a fever, a dream of sweat and ecstasy. A kiss on every hammer hit that follows as the keys fall down and bring an order first, then chaos, then a calm, that paints every shift in murals on the wall. And it presses to your neck, it clutches to your hips, softly sings to you of fireworks and God and art and sex and it's strange

That it feels so right when nothing else does.

But all the while he's playing there's a humming coming up and through the window from outside. And even he has to admit a certain melody in it, but then why can't he harmonize?

It's like the city's got it's own song but he can't play along. He sees the notes as they fly by but always plays them wrong. And in the bathroom it gets blurry, gets warm and distorted, Like light pushed the orange of the pillbox he poured in his palm. It falls to the floor, he smiles as it hits, "sounds a little like an instrument."

Like a voice in the choir, that hum and that drumbeat of life as an art-form and fire through the streets that keep moving us in silence to phantom baton sweeps, keep tapping to the tempo of our feet.

And all the ones who seem to fit the best into the chorus never notice there's a song, and the ones who seem to hear it end up tortured by the chords when they fail to find A way to sing along.

And when you sing the wrong thing it all starts collapsing. Starts to ring out and feedback, starts lapsing and crashing, on notes that don't clash, but that never quite feel like they match. And I never quite feel like mine match.

There's a melody in everything, I'm trying to find a harmony but Nothing seems to work, Nothing seems to fit. There's a melody in everything, I'm trying to find a harmony but Nothing seems to work, Nothing seems to fit. There's a melody in everything, I'm trying to find a harmony but Nothing seems to work, Nothing fits.
웹마스터 LUAA☆ 소개 페이지


cal/vivian 17/f/usa penknifelovelife.tumblr.com
last.fm/user/calosta
♡ you be the anchor that keeps my feet on the ground, i'll be the wings that keep your heart in the clouds ♡

Likes: Overwatch (D.Va main since 2016! Jinsoul#1263) , stalking livejournal threads about the bands I like from the 2000's, kpop girl groups, 12oz. mouse, mindless reality television, stephanie lawson stevens, early 2010's Youtube (and just late 2000's and early 2010's internet in general), domo-kun, little big planet, stuffed animals, tacky holiday decor, buying unnecessary knick knacks from goodwill, stephanie lawson stevens, interacting with people on neocities ♡

Dislikes: unnecessary hate to female kpop idols, finding out that a devistating amount of people I've looked up to end up being groomers or just overall degenerates, internet drama caused simply by people going out of their way to interact with users they don't like

Movies: Fight Club, Mysterious Skin, We Need to Talk About Kevin, Death Note (2006), L: Change the World... truth be told I'm not that into movies 0~0

Music: Brand New (top .005%!), La Dispute, Red Velvet, Twice, Loona, IVE, The Academy Is... (top .001%!), Taking Back Sunday, Armor for Sleep, Say Anything, A Thorn For Every Heart, Fall Out Boy, check my last.fm and spotify!

every page on this site was made in notepad. i also kind of have no idea what i'm doing so this site could look like shit for 99% of the people who see it and i just have no idea. i'm working on various "shrine" (surely there's a better word...) pages to my various interests that will hopefully come to frutition soon (unless i die of cringe from my own writing...)