Aramis' Workshop

Sing Like You Think No One's Listening

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Existentialism on Prom Night - Straylight Run

It’s been a while.
Summer flares in rebellion to autumn’s swift approach, and children’s days become a little shorter, a little less exciting (except for those who need not be taught).
For a season of death, fall brings such welcome tidings as sunburnt memories ferment like fine champagne.

“For the Lilies”

As I write this you lie sleeping in the room beside me.
A few days from now you’ll be gone once again, and I don’t know what I’ll do.
We always think we have just a little longer, even with the finish line in sight.
And though already you’ve gone, I still linger each time I pass by your door.

I dream as the sun rises because I can choose when to tend,
The furtive plowman digs deep, sowing victory into dead ends.
And as I plan another dozen summers sipping wine with dear friends,
Somewhere, pulsing deep, the heartache still mends.

One Bright Moment is All I Ask

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Leave My Body - Florence + the Machine

Most of Act 1 for Emarosa is done.
Plan to start revisions for Act 2 in July.

Unrelated: if for some reason you’re unfamiliar with Florence + the Machine, strongly recommend you become familiar.
Life may be just a bit better because of it.
Little bit of goodness.

“To You”

To you, whom were never me nor mine, and yet…

As long as I’ve known you (if I’ve ever known you), you’ve sought something.
Never quite sure of yourself, yet never so unsure you’d listen to anyone else.
You would fancy yourself a mystery if you fancied yourself at all.
It’s no wonder you hate mirrors with what you tuck away in the back of your mind.

I’ve wanted so many things for you because I never knew what you wanted.
If there could be just one thing that would make it alright, you would have it.
And just like you, with the answers to every problem gift-wrapped upon your doorstep, you’d turn away.
You wouldn’t even know why. Not really.

You almost died once. Twice. Actually I’ve lost count.
Still, you take the future for granted as though it’s something your teacher made-up in kindergarten.
I think you were more skeptical then, before the world acquainted you to madness.
Even so, you shelter a tender heart that continues to beat with somber reluctance.

It’s impossible to say what I wanted to say.
Or rather honestly, I just wouldn’t know how.
You have a way of misunderstanding the simple things while laying complications bare.
You’re a carnival trapped in a shoe box.

So to you, whom were never me nor mine, and yet…
There’s nothing more to be done except to hope.

Hope you learn to dance.
Hope your songs roar with such elegance they rouse dreamers into lovers.
Hope the things you turn away from clutch tight with faithful arms and never let you go.

More than what you would ever believe, I hope you find a warm, caring place to rest your head beside another, and wonder just how this moment could happen to you as you nestle your face deep down, eyes weary, letting a gentle hum carry you off to sleep.

The Dragonfly It Ran Away, but It Came Back with a Story to Say

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Dirty Paws (Live From Vatnagarðar) - Of Monsters and Men

“Drafted in B minor”

She looks into you as the camera comes out of frame,
You feel your pulse pounding as the blood bursts in your veins.
He will consume you and take all but your name,
You breathe in the fire as you swallow the pain.

They feed on their energy, the world dancing to their needs,
Drawing a horror spectacle as both beauties start to lead.
They were to marry in a graveyard amidst dandelions and rotting leaves,
Because they wanted to show their lost children life persists beneath dead trees.

Locked in their eye-lines, they’re perfectly strange.
Walking step-in-step, they burn in each other’s brain.
We can see through them, and yes they are same.
But we could not hope to try and understand their game.

Tearing into thee it woke you from the dream,
Destroying piece-by-piece the blueprint of what you need.
Calling for help you’ll fight to salvage the scene,
Trying in vain to re-draw the map from the little you’ve gleaned.

But more than this I wonder is there anyone that still knows,
The tale of the little prince and his dainty, precious rose?
Then again looking back I suppose it’s all just prose,
And in the end that’s how every story goes.

Never Knew I Was a Dancer 'til Delilah Showed Me How

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Delilah - Florence + the Machine

Four chapters written/re-written for Emarosa so far.
Don’t expect the next draft to be anywhere near ready before fall, but it’s coming along nicely.

In lieu of that, Florence Welch put together this amazing piece called The Odyssey.
It’s about 50 minutes, but well worth every one.

“Self-Portrait”

A child wandered into the woods yesterday.
We spent years searching for him, but she was nowhere to be found.
A friend says this guilt is misplaced because these things happen.
I wonder when they’ll go missing, though they’ve never really been here.

I believe that meeting love is so unlike having met her.
I also believe calories don’t count on the weekend.
No one knows what the matter was with Van Gogh. Not really.
Some understand better than they ever wanted to, though they would never tell you.

I still think about that child sometimes, and perhaps the child thinks of me.
I doubt the thoughts are the same.
You took my hand and told me to never forsake love for a lover.
Time’s not fooled by anyone: you never believed you.

I saw a thing once I couldn’t believe.
It was too much for words, and even if you had been there you still wouldn’t have seen.
So I drew you a picture to show the trees through the leaves.
The barren forest whispered as you stared at me, “Sometimes it’s better to forget the dreams.”

Some time later, or perhaps before, we finally abandoned the search.
If the child wanted to be found, then maybe we seemed decent (if not selfish).
But we know better than nature how things ought to be.
We’re more simple than we believe.

Hello Teacher Tell Me, What's My Lesson

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Mad World - Gary Jules

“A Daft Memory”

Never killed a man, but still they locked him away.
Left him in a cell of flowers and dirt because anything else would be cruel.
Even if angels are assholes, we’re not monsters.

I used to think he was beautiful.
There was a song he’d hum just before dawn.
I would’ve loved it so, had it not been his.

Every now again he crosses my mind.
I wonder if his dreams remained dreams.
Because only one could make it out, and who would you choose?

I pass the days quietly by the lake, just like we’d often planned.
He always told me not to make myself small.
This couldn’t have happened any other way.

For those of you that knew him, you never knew him.
And now you never will.
Though that’s hardly my fault, is it?

But enough of the dreary.
It’s such a pleasure to meet you.
Would you like to go to dinner?

I Have Written You down, Now You Will Live Forever

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Poet - Bastille

Second interlude, Those Who Remained, posted.

“Fille Inferno”

In a world ever imaginary the flightless take flight.
They soar among dreams, weaving melodious tapestries to keep the sleepers at ease.
She who longed to wake never could.
Because her lovers loved her so.

Breezes sift through trees, unaware of the seasons from whence they came.
Heat sings in the throes of wintertide, crooning its bittersweet respite.
Coital refuge passes the time, burning flesh until flesh burns again.
Only the young cherish snowfall.

We cry ‘til it hurts ‘cause it’s a beautiful thing.
Being what you are instead of what you should.
Boxes were never meant for long term, and neither were we.
Weird thing is you know what I mean, even if you don’t.

You want to look back but you don’t turn around.
Of course there’s nothing there you haven’t already found.
What could you see that you haven’t seen before?
What could you possibly miss when your eyes are on the door?

She forges herself anew, burning brighter by the day.
She’s lost as much as many, but she never gives herself away.
And even as they tell her that resolve will never last,
She charges on as each moment leads to the past.

Raise a Glass of Wine for the Last Time

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I See Fire - Jasmine Thompson

Chapters seven and eight of Feathers and Thorns posted.

“Anesidora”

I didn’t watch the world begin, but I might watch it end.

The scent of wafting willows on the breeze was always my favorite.
I used to lie on the grassy hilltop, watching cars drive passed as I dug my toes into the cold, squishy dirt.
The night-clouded sky would burst with glorious splendor as Helios’ gift crest the horizon.
Some days I’d simply drift away, until pangs of hunger rumbling in my belly would nag about things I’d forgotten.
But I never gave up a chance to watch Selene draw her blanket over the dusk, leaving a glittery trail of star-crumbs on her way home.

My mistake was a simple one, like most are.
But no one ever cares about who you were when you become the world’s worst criminal.
So they say.

I liked to smile. I like smiles.
The look on another’s face when my supple skin brushes a little too close to theirs.
So close I’m euphoric in a sea of their light, sweet perfumes and colognes.
They shy away, afraid, but then they see my smile.
People are lonely until you invite them into you.

I don’t think I was ever really “evil.”
Evil-ish, maybe, but in the same way–I think–that most people are “good-ish.”
Whether that’s true at all doesn’t change much: I found the jar.

The way hot, cheesy pepperonis stick between your teeth is how I know love.
I’ve met dazzling people–some for whom the word “rapture,” is now reserved.
And there have been some whom I’d just as soon forget, and probably have.
Other things have happened on occasion: sunrises with friends on the lawn, the ocean pier at sunset, so many day dreams I’ll never remember.
But there has always been, and ever shall be, sticky sweet pizza.

When it was all said and done, there was only one thing left.
I’m guessing by now you know what it is.
You’ve heard the story, I’m sure.
There’s just one small thing: I lied.
The jar is empty.

Really wanna know what’s left?
Me. The world’s worst criminal.
Good luck.

There's Only Two Ways That These Things Can Go

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The Good, The Bad And The Dirty - Panic! At The Disco

Site was down for a bit earlier for some serious back-end upgrades.
Should be much faster and more reliable now.
Also added some seasonal shiny, but if you spot any kinks, let me know?

Anyway, Feathers and Thorns chapter 2 posted.

Below is the companion piece to something I wrote a while ago entitled Puppy.
There’s always another perspective, even if we never see it.
Because a smile never grins without tears to begin.

“Of Mine”

I walked away from my puppy true,
Because I didn’t know how to be me without you.
But I could never disappear entirely.
Because I am your friend too.

I watched as you wandered,
Seeing both the joy and fear as you pondered.
Happy to be you, but happier as you found my clues.
Because I’m your friend too.

I know this seems cruel,
But if I never let you go we’d both be the fool,
So even though it pains me, I’ll allow this reverie,
Because I’m your friend too.

This might be a mistake,
Taking risks for growth’s sake,
But I can’t hide the hard choices from you,
Because I’m your friend too.

You’re so brave with all your might,
Though when you jumped the cliff you gave me such a big fright!
My heart stopped when I barely caught you,
But I’ll never let you fall ‘cause I’m your friend too.

We almost went down together (and if we had, it’d be okay),
Because no matter what comes at the end of the day,
I’m always your friend,
And you’re ever mine too.

I Believe We Fly

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Don’t Let Them See You Cry - Manchester Orchestra

Getting back into the flow of things.
I hope the New Year has been treating you well, and you’re well on your way to where ever it is you’d like to explore.
First chapter of Emarosa, Act II: Feathers and Thorns, posted.

“Kintsugi”

Sammy Dean wet his jeans on the first day of school.
He later aced the SATs and went on to become a football star,
But to those who knew him best,
Sammy Dean wet his jeans on the first day of school.

You know when you know, but up until that moment you’re never quite sure.
You’ve been mistaken so many times before, and deceived on top of that.
Things are easier when you don’t care, but then they’re just things.
Trusting comes hard when you’d rather think about what’s for dinner.

I adore the girls who are always cold and still trying to save that warmth.
Never been able to get close to fire without getting burned.
I remind myself that every day is that “Just one more day,”
and I’ve never lost the lust for the taste of one good, deep breath.

You’re sort of aware of everything around you,
as much as it relates to your schedule.
But you never stop to really admire yourself anymore.
Not like you did when you were a kid.

Jenny Lee and her army of three never walk alone.
Strength in numbers keep their rivals at bay,
But no one’s ever known who they are.
Jenny Lee and her army of three never walk alone.

And so I Tell Myself That I'll Be Strong

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Lights (iTunes Session)

Sea of Dragonfire chapter 7 posted.

“Good, or Don’t Be”

There was a girl no one has ever seen.
She was not invisible, nor was she hidden.
She appears and disappears because she gets all attached,
but before long they’re not hanging around anymore.

She’s a dream that fell from the sky and can’t find her way home.
She’s the room that can’t warm because the sun never shines on closed doors.
She’s lives a step away from the mercy of a beautiful child in her darkest hours.
She’s the living memory that all you’ve loved don’t mean nothing when it’s gone.

She doesn’t want to be home and she doesn’t want to be alone,
But she don’t want nobody around ‘cause she can’t let ‘em see her when she’s down
And then she gets to crawlin’ up the walls, wondering why they beg her never to call.
Leavin’ her once again to sleep alone, leavin’ her lost on her way home

If she don’t let it out, it might eat her away
But her anger brings dark results
She could just die, but she’s not dead.
Some nights she’s just so fucking fine.

If she ever leaves this world alive, she’ll take all the sadness she leaves behind,
‘cause though her truth may vary, her heart never does.
And even with everything falling down around her,
She still believes in the possibilities.