sootandsparrows's blog

with tired eyes, we fail to speak - trapped inside of old oak trees

every word has been stolen. each broken syllable, each misread thought got caught in stagnant air only to be pilfered by the wind. they strike us while we sleep, weaving their way between our lungs, stealing whatever they can find in the galaxies of our bodies. they hide clues in our memories, signs that read, "we've been here. we've seen all your secrets. don't worry - we won't tell." it's only until you hear your thoughts retold to you through someone else that you realize you've been played the fool. the bandits stole everything. their stolen bounty sewn into leaves that set sail on the wind, ready to slip into the mouths of babes waiting to be fed. 

while you're left forgotten and hungry.

dashes and scratches - carved names in the ashes

looking back, one cannot seem to recollect where they've come from. where one feeble instance turns into another, all the rest mimic themselves in such a way that no one shows any notice. to trace back such steps - the last morsels of our childhood - would be a feat only ever dreamed of. dreams of castles and worlds beyond the sun; pirrouetting cosmonauts humming lullabyes to the children they'll never meet. hoping that we'll never fail them, that we'll live up to what we've claimed to become so they can merely make our acquaintance. they've seen our miracles; they've seen our destruction at it's finest.

let this be my tribute to spacemen.

leaning over buildings, the ground never looked so tall

a fond yawn and our emotions stretch out their joints once again. lying on the ground, belly up, snorting little puffs of sun whose taste is all too much like the snow from last may. turning over, hands gripping to the stalks of grass, leaving teethmarks in the sand, you realize dreamily that the land is yours. every last bit of mile has your footprint imbedded into it - a natural insignia that goes unnoticed. you look around and wonder where everyone has gone. where the memories had evaporated to; where had your feelings of only months before run off to. apathy sets still in your stomach and shakes hands with the beating vibrations of your heart - hello, dear friend; fancy meeting you again. you stumble through the lies and the what you told who and the things they had spat out at you. foolishly, you believed them. you heard their words ring true and thought nothing else could possibly matter.

you thought the world could stand still.

each thought patched up the holes in the sky

days grow colder and the seasons grow younger. we stare through windows at the colours that change and fade into non-existance as the sun beams bleaker with each passing day. we hear of old friends - lovers - the tales they spurt that no longer accomodate you in any way. you sit and listen with a calm smile spanning across your face; you realize these words disinterest you and you merely just want to listen to the hum of the person that does. you trade anger for apathy, since feelings are a waste. and as you sit and listen, you add up the situations and make a solution that pieces everything together. a solution that dawns as a realization to the months that have passed and the time that has grown rampant. you settle yourself out of their lives - you're nothing to compare to.

but you're everything in the eyes of a queen.

the seagulls only thirst for knives

all runs rampant and the things we believe become nothing more than makeshift atrocities stamped with our own seal of approval. we look at them - these people, these scoundrels - and wonder how they took our lives and contorted them into plasticine replicas of everything we didn't want to achieve. and we sit and ponder how the simple sound of rain bears a weight on our hearts. how the smallest detail in our morning can unravel and break us apart. so we look to our sandboxes, where we fought for our castles and kingdoms. where we reigned as kings and queens. we look to our sandboxes and breath heavy sighs.

we want our thrones back.

down here the weather's fine, but the vinegar's blistered our eyes

teetering between one extreme and the next, days pass and you wonder if they were ever even there. you stalk the ground looking for traces of eraser residue, thinking someone made a mistake and cleared the wrong portions of the portrait that is your life. you fumble over memories and the tasks you promised yourself into doing, but nothing connects and there is no proof to it existing - nor is there anything to argue otherwise. you remember one thing - the one thing that has become the solution to all your equations. the solution with no stable meaning. it's something you always come back to; something you recognize as being your own. and if you could, you'd stop their heart from beating and offer yours. just to be closer to them.

just to be with them.

they pluck our teeth like lashes and make wishes on each black void

you can't look away - your eyes are tapered open. similar to those days in your youth when you would pedal down hills on bicycles, only to realize the handlebars were holding you and your legs were being forced into motion. it goes back to the simple question of what is the best choice: the safer route or the quicker route. though even speed comes in moderation. even time slips away when you have more of it.

even birds forget to fly.

raise high the sunbeams - winter has come into effect

we grow listless under the sun; a drought that glues our skin to our veins and tongues to the highbeams of our mouths. children gather at our feet, collecting the saliva that drips from our chins in thick globs as it has already turned to paste; glitter pitted in their palms. all you can focus on is the thirst that's gathering in your throat. the thirst that whistles everytime you breathe in, though not even water can soothe it. a simple taste of all you'd like and it would go away. just a taste and the disease won't spread. and when you walk into a room, you disappear. you blend with the furniture and the imitation celtic tapestry that clings to the walls. and when you walk into a room, you're walking out. you've left the second your foot hit the ground. you've already gone away.

but you'll be back.

we'll wear our shame beneath the trees

we gallavant through streets, completely null of the whirlwind world passing by us and adapt to our instincts of invincibility as time runs backwards, in circles. what's to become of us is not to be known - not for the time being. i suppose that's how it's been fated for everyone. wait your turn and the answers will dawn. i've realized it's not answers that i'm looking forward to, but merely a form of continuity. something that just doesn't end abruptly while you were convinced of its immortality. what i've come to learn is that the theory of such everlasting concepts can be applied to nothing more than the future. all else dies off, but the future will continue to live on. and your yesterday may have gone astray, swiped from thoughts and memories.

but i'll still hold on to your tomorrow.

i'll build us a rowboat and we'll sail to the moon - but don't expect to come back soon.

these forgotten concepts, these rendered thoughts, one can merely think of all that was not. or all that was, but went unnoticed. i've been weighed down by complications, lately. questions, more so, that spark up ideas and thoughts of things that may have been not too long ago. questions primarily dabbling in love. and i wonder what happened to that feeling - that feeling of utter contempt that made everything weightless and worthwhile. what happened to looking out of windows rimmed with optimism, into a world of complete surety? all i can do is question. how one can claim so much and take it all back, but is unable to let go. as though they're searching for that final piece in you. that final little bit that looks them square in the eye and breathes, "i'm it. you've found me."

and you can keep me.