My music is blaring in my ears. I can hear nothing else as I stare out into the field; the sun and I face to face. I can't hear the cars passing by. I can't hear the wind or birds. I can only see and feel. I see the leaves swaying. I feel the wind on my bare hands, and my hair is gently blown across my face. My hair looks glossy in the sunlight; almost like spun chocolate. I squint at the sun while tilting my head to feel it's warmth on my cheeks. The hem of my pants, the tips of grass, and the wind all team up to tickle my foot.

The guitars, drums, and voices remind me that my heart is supposed to bleed, and honesty is a fable in love.

The music stops, and before the next song comes on, I hear a car drive by; I hear birds singing; I hear the wind whispering. Between each song I am placed back into reality.

And, although the sun and wind quell my realities, I am brought back to a place I desire to escape from.

Yes, the music has a sort of harsh reality about it, but it isn't a focal point. It's a weapon. Music--loud music--fights the true sounds of reality. It, reality, is on the backburner of my current world--the world of warmth and spun chocolate.

My hair gets caught on am eyelash. A small rainbow is glaring from this intersection.

And the song reminds me that so much can be said through silence.

Identically soft and strong, Potentially Nothing

I have a secret
It's deep and dark
very
and here I am, putting it down on paper
Immortalizing my secret
Creating the excitement of fear
Fear of being found out
Still excitement

It begins with 2, but quickly becomes one
The same, yet different
It, the secret, is the sort that ruins
Yet creates.
Ruins. Creates. Ruins.
Creates?

It's a plesure restricted by time and circumstance
Identically soft and strong, Potentially nothing
But only one.
10-22-06