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Shlohmo & Jeremih - No More

Not Alone

There is a point you cross without noticing. It could be a word you didn’t say, a glance you didn’t return, a door you didn’t walk through. At the time, it felt like nothing. A moment no different from the rest.
And yet, somewhere along the way, you look back and see it — a thin, invisible line, drawn in the dust behind you. And you realize you’re on the other side now.
That’s when the weight comes. The slow, suffocating understanding that there’s no way back. Not because you’re not allowed — but because what you left behind has ceased to exist. Like a bird that landed in your open palm for a heartbeat, and you let it go, thinking it was just a shadow.
Only later do you understand what you held. Only later does your body remember its warmth. And then, the nights become heavier. You lie there, staring into the dark, counting the shapes of something you’ll never hold again.
You tell yourself it was nothing. You tell yourself you couldn’t have known. But the truth is simpler, crueler — you had it. You let it fall through your fingers. And now there is only the echo, repeating in the quiet, long after the world has gone to sleep

never find your way back

marzo

Today I felt myself standing at the edge of something I could not name.
Not life, not death, not dream. A hallway that extends endlessly,
and yet it ends right before me.


The silence around me seemed alive — restless, waiting.
As if the walls were listening for a word I could not say.

The shadow was with me again.
It does not belong to my body and yet it leans across my movements,
anticipates them, finishes them before I begin.


To remain here is not suffering, nor peace.
It is suspension — a held breath that no one releases.
I am not afraid. I am not at home.
I am simply unfinished.

unfinished

let it go

Same words, different world.

There was a time when the world was quiet. Or maybe it wasn’t the world—maybe it was just me. I remember the silence, the kind that wasn’t empty but full, the kind that settled softly like dusk over a slow-moving river. Back then, my mind was still a place I could rest in, not a storm I had to survive.

It must have started as a whisper, a small ripple in the stillness, something I thought would pass. But it grew until it became everything. Now, the quiet feels like something I dreamed, something too distant to be real. I chase it, reach for it in the rare moments when the chaos slows.

And I am left here, a drift in the wind, unable to remember what it felt like to simply be.

Sometimes, late at night, when the world is half-asleep, I almost hear it again. A memory of silence, pressed between heartbeats, between the ticking of the clock and the sigh of the wind against the glass. But it never stays. The storm always finds its way back, tearing through my thoughts, scattering them like leaves in a wind I cannot stop.

I wonder - was I ever truly at peace, or was it only the absence of knowing what would come? And if I was, if that silence was real, is it lost forever? Or is it waiting for me somewhere, just beyond the horizon?

I remember the silence (rework)

10. NOTHING LEADS INTO SOMETHING

I didn’t choose the cold. Not at first. It crept in slowly, like silence after an argument - unspoken but deafening. The frost doesn’t lie. It strips everything down to the bone. No warmth, no comfort - just what remains when illusion is gone.


There’s a kind of knowing that comes only in the quiet. A clarity that doesn’t shout, doesn’t explain - it just is. But to hold it, I’ve had to let go of so much.

Because every time I come close to someone, I feel it slipping. That delicate thread I’ve followed through the silence begins to unravel in the noise of being known. There’s a part of me that only survives in isolation - a fragile shape that can’t bear the weight of love, or the expectations that come with being seen.

I watch people from a distance and wonder what it would cost to stay. To share space. To let the frost melt, even if just for a while.

But I know the price. I've paid it before. That when you are with someone, you lose something else - something only solitude can give. 

So I remain here, suspended between the need to be held and the need to disappear. I do not ask for answers. Only that the silence keep speaking to me, gently, until I can bear to listen again.

And maybe, one day, I’ll step back into the world. But I will never return the same.

coldlight

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Finding ways to blend jazz and synths into beats

Not Alone

Altered Chops