| there are so many reasons to stay dead. there's the comfort of the stillness, the way the glacial hopelessness begins to seem so safe after so long, so long. there's the peacefulness of inevitable collapse, the way each fragment and echo becomes magnified, amplified, and imbued with the deepest shades of meaning and symbolism. there's the way that closing your eyes blinds you to all the things that you'd rather not see. as the memories decay and distort, the idealized world of a halcyon past solidifies, drawing its breath from the lips of the present. like a vampire, it slowly drains the blood from anything you could have, anything you could be until you are so wretched and twisted that you look behind you and believe you see what lies ahead. if you look at the remnants of this piano and if you focus hard enough, if you shut everything else out, you can hear the music it once produced you can imagine laughter and comraderie around it, and maybe you can warm yourself with the ghost of their flames. maybe for some that would be enough. as for me, i've been too cold for too long. i need a change. |
a halcyon past
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| the remains of an organ lies amidst the scattered remnants of rosevale institution's past |
