I haven't written in two weeks.
Not just here. Nowhere.
I've had all of these thoughts racing through my head and not time and nowhere to put them. As soon as I have just the tiniest second to breathe, I just want to pass out or escape things for a few minutes before life, the universe, and everything picks right back up for it's next barrage.
I dream so many things that have yet to be and, sadder still, cannot be for far too long. I, weary traveler, must be trapped on the slower path. For the sake of my Angel, I tread it without guile.
All the while, the days soldier on while I recover from nights that I sell to survive, but it seems in the end I will have neither day nor night. Only trapped with the things that never were because I was never man enough to step out to make them real.
To all the songs I've missed recording, to all of the verses I missed writing, to the ideas left to rot on the floor of my prison and the Angel who tarries with me, if only in spirit for now...
I'm sorry I'm not always attentive. I miss you. When you are with me again, oh the magic we will create. Until then, I will do everything I can to earn the privilege you are to have in my life. You connect me to the universe in a very singular way. You make me feel alive.
I miss creating.
Not everything is what is seems.
Are You Watching Closely?
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