Mazzy Star - Into Dust

Things do not make much sense these days. Some days pass by without leaving any mark whatsoever on the calendar. It is as if they cannot fill the hole at the center. The need and the want. Nights come and go like an orgasm, a sudden instant of darkness before the overwhelming onrush of light.

The pages flutter across the water’s edge. White sheets carried along by the whims of an impulsive wind. Nothing is as it seems. A half broken sand castle lies forlorn and a sheet lodges itself on the last turret wall. Why do things keep breaking down? Why does age play catch up at the wrong time? The nature of things is to deteriorate, isn’t it? Like these wrinkled sheets clinging to my legs as if imploring me to spare them from the oblivion of decay. Smudged words drift into focus. Did I write them? Did you? Who wrote them? Did we all?

I hear laughter carried by the wind recede an instant later. Hearts continue to beat to the music of different lives. The waves swallow some of the sheets. A history in letters erased forever. The sand under my feet is the weight of the past. I can feel the million little granules resolve into the fine detail of nostalgia.

All that remains in the end are words. The obscene everyday profusion of words. Words that remain trapped on paper like memories in the mind.