unholytranscendence

[unholytranscendence]

This composition in particular has an essence that cannot be descried in words. Some find hope, others respite. Music truly transcends human emotions.

[unholytranscendence]

Crossroads, invalidating serendipity

You’ve been running for too long; it has been years since you stood still. Far longer since you’ve enjoyed the simple things. You’ve grown old and weary, the tiredness beneath your eyes grow a shade darker every time you look into the far beyond. Reminiscing what you -- and only you -- hold dear. The laughs, moments trapped inside the atoms and molecules in space, a sense of belonging, a sense of despair. Every time you gaze at the stars, they show you what once was: the happier times. If only you knew, if only you could rewind the hands of time, turning the hourglass upside-down. You’d tell your past self to hold on, grab onto those memories a little longer. Try a little harder, or maybe teach yourself to let go. For the images are still fresh, implanted and rooted deep within your existence.

You’ve grown tired and weary. It’s time, maybe it’s time.

[unholytranscendence]

A familiar taste

His eyes beseeched for the answers. His lips quivered, rushing his memories, pushing those once familiar thoughts into over drive. It had been years since he yearned; for what sat in front of him was not a memory he thought he could process. What was a split second seemed like an eternity; the first kiss - a feeling he had forgotten, was all it took for him to remember who he once was. He couldn’t look at her radiating presence, as his eyes wandered, giving away his thoughts - his fears - that could he could not hide. He was falling, once again, into the abyss of the unknown, and couldn’t wait to take the plunge. 

[unholytranscendence]

What makes someone good, in a society that constantly judges people based upon appearance, and in all honesty, a disguise that masquerades the very core of a being? If someone isn’t well articulate, does that make him or her unqualified to socialize? Doesn’t someone, merely based upon their ideas or qualifications, deserve respect and the right to be treated equally, in an otherwise judgmental society? Some of us are inept, but does that entitle them to constant mockery or degradation? Sadly, based upon the society’s principles that exist today, some of us share the same value as those who were sold into slavery not many centuries ago, deemed unfit and destined to disappear in the muck of history

[unholytranscendence]

Years ago, you asked me why I’d write about you. You asked me why, when everyone else captured those moments in pictures and bordered frames, I would put ink to paper, drenched in your fragrance. Years later, I still sense your presence, when you’re miles away, with someone else’s name on the tip of your tongue. I can still feel your lingering essence, the very kind that has been etched in my memory, with words reminding me of what I once was.

[unholytranscendence]

Oh, Mozart!

[unholytranscendence]

Another night he spent reciting words – words that he had forgotten even existed, thoughts he was too scared to process, and possibilities that would change his perspectives about the world. Although it isn’t often that he strived for perfection, everything seemed to pale in comparison with the way he looked at her – his own labyrinth. She was soon becoming more than just his muse; the perfection he never thought he could find.

[unholytranscendence]

She left because she wasn’t interested in love, and I stayed behind because there was nothing I believed in more.

[unholytranscendence]

It isn't sad when someone loses their muse, and tries to get it back. It isn't sad when that same someone starts a long journey, trying to figure out once again what they want, or who they want to become. What is sad however, is when that feeling isn't felt or expressed - Just like losing what we once loved than not having loved at all. Feelings make poets, the romantics, the dreamers and the believers. 

[unholytranscendence]

We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.”

― Anaïs Nin (via psych-quotes)

[unholytranscendence]

With this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it’s all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me ‘cause I couldn’t make you love me and I’m tired of pulling your teeth.

Richard Siken (via mooneyedandglowing)

[unholytranscendence]

When we two parted

When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sank chill on my brow—  It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken, And light is thy fame: I hear thy name spoken, And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me—  Why wert thou so dear? They know not I knew thee, Who knew thee too well:—  Long, long shall I rue thee Too deeply to tell. In secret we met—  In silence I grieve That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee?—  With silence and tears.

- Lord Byron

[unholytranscendence]

I would never re-write you. You are by far my most complete and greatest novel. You and your splendor; lingering in my brain across a timelessly barefoot reality.

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 23 November 1926 (via dieworten)

[unholytranscendence]

I’d rather sing one wild song and burst my heart with it, than live a thousand years watching my digestion and being afraid of the wet.

Jack London, The Turtles of Tasman (via quoted-books)

[unholytranscendence]

It may not always be so; and I say That if your lips,which I have loved, should touch Another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch His heart, as mine in time not far away; If on another’s face your sweet hair lay In such silence as I know, or such Great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, Stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

If this should be, I say if this should be— You of my heart, send me a little word; That I may go unto him, and take his hands, Saying, Accept all happiness from me. Then shall I turn my face, and hear one bird Sing terribly afar in the lost lands.

- E. E. Cummings.

[unholytranscendence]

I like words; I like how they can be crude, their flames consuming the passion, the very idea of what we feel. I like the nakedness of its truth, something in its purest form. I like the way it makes someone feel special, stripping them to the very fabric of their existence, showing them at their most vulnerable, reminding them just how darn beautiful they are. I like to see people through the realm of sentences and words, just enough to entwine their reality with mine. Yes, I like words.

[unholytranscendence]

Love Sonnet XI

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue. - Love Sonnet XI, Pablo Neruda