I NEED RESCUE

Music is disturbing my head.
I am restless.
My soul is in deep turmoil.
I feel a pain I cannot find words to tell.
Yes I am in the middle of a fierce battle.
A part of me is bleeding,
a part of me is pleading,
pleading for justice or at least just one chance.
I am locked up.
I will explode if these chains don't let go.

The music inside me is screaming to burst open.
I need a release.
It's the only way I will survive.
The chains are killing me.
The voices are dimming my soul,
sapping the life of me,
This is killing me softly,
as the music remains unquenched
 like deep love unrequited.
I am like a thirsty lover,
forced to live with the pain of eternal dryspell,
Torn apart from the very affection of my soul.
Damn! I need an outlet.

Art is suffocating me, chocking me,
killing me softly, giving me nightmares,
scary dreams of the after life.
Only she can save me, this sweet girl (music)
that I deeply love yet can't have.
Music will take me to my grave.
No! Not doing music will take me to my grave.
That is for certain,
because music is all I live for,
She is at the very soul of the life I live,
She is the heartbeat that keeps this system running.
In her company, I come to life,
I am me, I don't need to be someone else,
I don't need to pretend, I don't need to hide,
I don't need to be perfect before her,
I don't need to be strong when I should be weak,
I don't need a stone face when my tear glands
threaten to burst the at the seams
and release the floodgates within
that wash my soul clean of pain,
My cold insides spark to life and glow warm,
The wounds within get a healing balm.
She makes me kick to life,
Awakens the beast within,
And allows the baby inside to smile, cry and play.

I am insane, I know, but then again
I have never been normal and the harder I try to be,
the harder I keep failing.
How on earth can I be normal,
when normal is dead and gone?
I am an empty shell of the man I am,
lost in this maze tryingt to trace my way home.
I have a lot to say yet words cannot even form,
my lips vibrate but produce no single sound.
I have a billion feelings to express,
Yet they refuse to come out,
when I desperately want them to.
The strength within fails me,
when I desperately summon it.

Am I normal?
I don't know, I may never know,
maybe I will never know.
Is something wrong with me?
I honestly dont know this too.
Maybe if the music within came out,
I would get a glimpse of the answers,
I may somehow unravel the puzzle,
of this complex maze I have been lost inside for eons.
I need an outlet,
before the little life that remains inside
my sorry being fizzles out too,
before the feeble, little shinning light that is increasingly
dimming,
but still fighting hard to shine against all odds,
 dies out too.
And, in it's place total darkness envelopes
the man I never got the chance to see and know.

The same blessing I was given is also my greatest curse,
my sweetest taboo I swear.
The creativity I never asked for, the unforgiving talent,
the spontaneous tunes, melodies, sounds and,
countless voices in my headhthat bother me endlessly,
yet not coming out are killing me softly,
like seeping blood taking away life from bleeding slit wrists.
or traditional incurable poison with no antidote,
or carbon monoxide from a jiko on a cold night,
as I like in my bed sleeping,
with my doors and windows closed,
Even my door and window curtains drawn to shut
out the world.
My soul is bleeding to death and I can't help it,
I feel helpless, I am drowning,
and I can't even cry for help as the current sweeps
me away.

The wounds caused by this music
that has been forced to die but refuses and fights back,
fights back harder than the slave masters chaining her.
If only I could just give her all up and be free,
of her intoxicating madness and grasp over me.
If only I could walk away from her painful sweetness,
If only I could put a stop to our liason and an end to this torture,
If only I could free my chained mind,
heart, body spirit and soul.
I would give up everything I have for that.

But how can I?
How can I when she is me and I am her?
How can I when giving her up would mean giving up me?
How can I when she is all I need?
How can I when live with the curse,
or is it the blessing of insanity of a creative mortal?
I walk with the curse of an abnormal being,
in a perfect society with perfect beings,
who are normal and ideal.
My only mistake, being abnormal and real,
in a world where real is twisted,
and the difference between real and unreal,
real and ideal as grey and unclear,
as the conflicts within my tortured soul.

Music will kill me if she doesn't get out.
I know how jealous she is, how strong,
how dangerous, how crazy she gets,
how mean and loving she is to me at the same time.
I may be overreacting but no!
I know it, I have seen it, I have tasted it, I know it.

I am silly, please forgive me, forgive my stupidity,
my futile attempts at being intelligent,
yet only managing to embarrass myself in public,
showing off my chronic ignorance and appalling stupidity.
Please forgive me, forgive me for her if not for me.
Forgive my unforgivable stupidity of dreaming and
creating nonsense in the real world.
But let me do just one thing, just one thing,
I know you will not understand but please I beg of you,
Let me make love to music just one more time.
This is the last time and I will bother you no more.
I will die silently with my dry spell and accept my fate.
Allow me to love her just one last time.

I find nothing left to live for with her gone.
And if I follow her without ever doing it,
please write this in my epitaph,
"here lies a man who failed,
a man who loved music and did nothing about it,
a man who fought her and lost.
Here lies a coward with a million songs he refused
to give to the music of his soul,
here lies a failure who refused to release
an infinite number of beautiful tunes that music gave him
as a memento of their undying love,
here lies a man who killed that love and killed himself too."
Write my epitaph in bold, make it golden,
make it large, ugly and conspicuous,
but make sure the writings in honor of music are beautiful,
that would be my last gift for her,
my silent eternal apology for failing her,
for betraying our complicated love affair.
Please write sweetly and beautifully in bold,
"HERE LIES A MAN WHO FOUGHT MUSIC AND LOST"
Then my tortured soul shall rest in peace.

#TheMusingsOfAMadMan
#TheLoudThoughtsOfASilentPen
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#ThePoet
©Camistare 2019