Echos are what I hear.
Leftover sound waves of the words I've spoken.
They play tricks on my mind
because they sound as real as they did when I spoke them.
Except these are fragments of those words,
they've bounced around and traveled back to me
and even though they are the same words and it's my same voice
they have dissipated in energy and are chaotic from the travel.
I know they are real because I spoke them. I felt them. They are my energy.
So why do they sound foreign, as if they were spoken by a ghost of me?
Eyes are our outlet to see the world
and an equal way the world can see whats in us.
Eyes hold the energy of the soul and body in their stare, in their color.
You can see pain in eyes, when it's in the heart.
You can see love in eyes, when it's in the heart.
When I look at mine they appear strangely
as if I'm in new territory that I can't yet explain.
They've seen so much. The most beautiful and the most disgusting of things.
I can see these things because they exist within myself.
Sometimes something catches my eye, so I stop and take a better look.
But what am I really seeing?
My mind is a projector screen and my eyes are the lenses I use to see it.
So am I seeing what's really there or what I really need to see in myself?
I've chosen to let light shine through the cracks that have made a home in my heart.
I have chosen freedom from my own mind prison.
Just because you're free doesn't mean you're at peace.
Sometimes truth is chaos and sometimes it really hurts
and other times truth feels like one of those dreams where you try so hard to keep sleeping.
There is no way, no music, no drug, no escape from truth.
It will find you when you think you're hidden
or even if you say a million times that it won't - it will.
Eventually, you have to listen because the voice is so loud your head hurts
and you're dizzy from the confusion.
The sound of truth is echoing in my ears.
It's fractured like a ray of light casting down between two trees.
The truth is perfect and smooth and effortless.
The truth knows nothing of my emotions attached to untruth.
It doesn't care if I care.
Truth exists in the space between.
It isn't right or wrong - black or white.
It doesn't need contrast or a belief in it.
It is.
I'll follow truth until my very last breath
or maybe the truth will be the one that kills me.
