It's kicking in
The witch distortions
He's a stag
A woodland prince
An imp of desire
He's an efreet
There's frames of time between us
Between this paper and me
His face is like cinema unfolding before me
Frame by frame
The room is breathing
There's a lag between thinking and feeling
There's a world of meaning between every word
You cannot focus
Graduating from his face to the rest of the room
Struggling to remember this
To hold on to these flickering moments of time
You're losing something you can't even mourn
Everything feels temporal
I can't tell if I'm warm or not
We're on a tent
Under a blanket
Experiencing all of this in comfort
Sitting by the fire
Puzzling existence under blankets and all
Words can't convey...
You're literally trying to construct meaning
It's taking so long
A boat! We're on a boat
On a sea of sensory experience
It all flies away like dragonflies
What will you think tomorrow when you read this?
Volumes of sensation
Volumes of feeling
Locked away in these pages
Are we at the end of the trip yet?
The room has a heartbeat
Rubbish = When you're drunk
But it's different now, now = Meaning is all Funky.
Do we all trip the same way?
I'm experiencing the music in a way I've never felt before
You feel the breaths
The sound entering and leaving the room
The rhythm you float in
That it lulls you into this
Hypersleep of the mind
The aura of the song
This is what they must've felt
This boat could go deeper
But we choose to thread in safe waters tonight.
I'm being hypnotised by the paper.
I have him close his eyes, as the beginning of ODESZA's A Moment Apart sets in. We breathe the same rhythm, ache for the same vision. We share something, even if only for sacred moments. Amid roman columns, under shivering stained glass, in the violet light...