"So, we have achieved the tabula rasa... the blank slate. But what does one experience within this perfect nullity? The texts speak of a profound lunar peace... a sterile, almost surgical quiet where the fever of the former self has finally broken. It is a state of absolute potential, precisely because it is a state of absolute emptiness. The ultimate blank canvas of the self."

The hiss of the tape starts to fade.
The pressure in my head is gone.
A fine white dust settles on the machines.

The monitor screen is a blank slate.
My own reflection shows no fear.
There is no static here anymore.

And there's this ghost inside my bones.
This perfect hollowness I've never known.
And I'm starting to suspect a bitter truth...

And they call this feeling clarity.
They call this barren quiet peace.
But it's just a clean and empty room
where I am finally, finally safe from you.

I scraped away every last trace of the stain.
I bled out all the poison and the memory.
Just to learn the sickness was a part of me.

And they call this feeling clarity.
They call this barren quiet peace.
But it's just a clean and empty room
where I am finally, finally safe from you.

So this is what it's like to win.
To be washed clean of everything.
But I think I might have erased the wrong person.

"But one must be cautious in this white void. A perfect vacuum begs to be filled. It is a state of profound vulnerability. The subject, now purified, stands at a precipice. The question that follows is not one of process, but of will. What will be the first color... the first word... to stain this pristine, silent page?"

Lunar Bath

"And so we come to the great paradox of the Albedo. 
Infinite potential often leads not to creation, but to a state of profound paralysis.
 The fear of making the wrong mark... of choosing an imperfect color... can be so overwhelming that the subject chooses not to act at all, remaining suspended in a state of pristine, yet ultimately sterile, inaction."

This body is a house of glass.
A hollow room, a perfect white.
And every whisper from the past...
threatens to become a hairline crack.

And this is the stillness... this silent, frozen prize.
A terrifying vacuum behind my own two eyes.
This pristine page, this fragile, empty state.
Paralyzed by the ghost of every past mistake.

I stand before a thousand doors.
And every handle feels like it will burn.
I'm afraid to take a single step forward.
Forgetting which way is the safe return.

And this is the stillness... this silent, frozen prize.
A terrifying vacuum behind my own two eyes.
This pristine page, this fragile, empty state.
Paralyzed by the ghost of every past mistake.

Is this my hand that holds the pen?
Is this my will that hesitates again?
Or just the static of a dead command...
from an architect I don't understand.

"A single... drop... of color..."

Porcelain

"A single drop... and with it, the potential of the void crystallizes into a single path. 
The cold light of the moon gives way to the analytical fire of the sun. 
The Citrinitas has begun. 
The mind no longer merely exists; it begins to comprehend."

The sterile calm is finally broken.
A yellow light, a chemical stain.
The static in my head resolves into a single, awful thought.
A cold new logic that feels like a different kind of pressure.

And this is the great enlightenment.
This is the bitter, final turn.
I thought I was the one who was the victim here.
But I was always the lesson I refused to learn.

I pull the memory of your face up from the archive.
Another piece of evidence, another reason to submit.
Every tear was just the fuel for this machine.
Every moment of despair was just a part of it.

And this is the great enlightenment!
This is the bitter, final turn!
I thought I was the one who was the victim here!
But I was always the lesson I refused to learn!

This sun-forged eye... it sees too clearly now.
There is no beauty left, no grand design.
Just a perfect system of my own mistakes.
And I was the architect, and all of this was mine.

"And so, comprehension is achieved. 
The subject no longer sees the world; it sees the system behind the world. 
Every action, every emotion, every thought reduced to a predictable, logical sequence. 
But this illumination comes at a cost. 
To understand the machine so completely is to become alienated from it... to stand outside, observing its functions with a cold and lonely clarity.
The next stage is not one of discovery, but of isolation."

Citrinitas (The Sun-Forged Eye)

There it is, a gleam that cuts through still
Bright enough to reach, then shifts, goes dim
I don’t hold to what burns quick and thin
A glimmer, a pulse—gone like a breath

Shimmer at the edge, faint as dusk (faint as dusk)
Something close, but slips through dust
I let it fade, let it go
What’s light to someone who stays low? (who stays low)

I’ve watched stars dissolve, sink to rust (sink to rust)
Beauty that fractures, crumbles to ash
It’s easy to think there’s meaning in the drift
But I know better when it falls

Could chase that glow, let it pull me in (pull me in)
But I know what holds, what is thin
Better to stand, let it pass through
Than reach for something I can’t hold (I can’t hold)

So let it shimmer, let it turn to dust (turn to dust)
Nothing stays but the quiet pulse
A shimmer’s just that, a trace, a touch
Then slips away, leaves me undone (leaves me undone)

The Shimmer

The dust settles on the glass
The world outside is a breathless pause
A quiet that bruises, a kind of weight
And you are present
(you are present)

This isn't shimmer, not a fleeting glimmer
A stillness where a storm should be
It feels like an anchor, heavy and deep
A truth my own bones understand
(seem to understand)

Your light isn't borrowed, isn't fractured
Not the sharp glint on broken ice
Just a steady hum under my own skin
And I am caught
(and I am caught)

I learned the map of letting go
The comfort in the crumbling stone
To watch the colors bleed out slow
And name the emptiness… a home
(that was home)

The quiet pulse… no longer mine alone
A heavy presence I have never grown used to
An anchor holds me in its deep…
Or am I just beginning to drift asleep?
(drift asleep)

The Anchor

There's a quiet that isn't mine
A stillness that has a slow pull
It leaves a shadow sharper than stone
Something taking root in the dust
(root in the dust)

It has no gleam to feed the eye
No quick burn, no turn to grey
It builds a pressure deep inside
A weight that doesn't wash away
(wash away)

And this is the tide inside the blood
A dark pulse beating its own steady rhythm
It doesn't promise to save
Just a constant thrum of what must remain
(must remain)

I watched the stars fall without a sound
I knew the frailty of a held breath
But this thing doesn't break on broken ground
It has the patient grip of the ocean itself
(the ocean itself)

The stillness deepens...
A constant pull...
I feel it watching...
Through my own eyes.
(my own eyes)

The Rising Tide

A fault line sighs,
The glass between us
Barely breathing.

I press my thumb
To the bruise of your patience,
Waiting for color.

You stay limestone,
I am the acid rain.
You, a deep well;
Me, the thirst that can’t be named.

Aftermath arithmetic:
You, the equation;
Me, the remainder.

The crack so precise,
A surgeon’s incision…
No blood,
Only absence.

The Unmaking

The floor tilts slow.
The walls give way.
The air thins.
The ground slides away.
I'm searching for a map that 
isn't there...

A spinning starts behind my eyes.
The compass needle turns and turns.
All my constellations flicker out,
your stillness blinds.

I measured my steps by fading stars,
their subdued glimmers on my skin.
A somber, fading firmament.
Then your light erupted,
and every trace of me dissolved 

I can’t see.
I let go.
I can’t see.
You remain.

I can’t see... the colors turn to mud.
I let go... this tricky, subtle turn
I can’t see the poison in my blood.
You're still here, the only thing that's left to learn

Spinning.
The compass needle is a blur.
I close my eyes...
and you're still here.
Turning....
Turning....

The Surrender

The air holds its breath here,
thick with unspoken weight.
I move through rooms of mist,
each step uncertain, hesitant.

Something shifts beneath my skin,
a slow unwinding thread.
The old familiar ache has gone,
left hollow chambers echoing.

Drifting through the velvet dark,
I am smoke between the walls.
Gravity has lost its grip,
the ground beneath me shifts and shifts.

Suspended in this strange new country,
where silence has a pulse.
I listen to the emptiness
learning its own language.

Your light bleeds through the edges
of this half-formed territory.
I catch glimpses in the mirror
of someone else's shadow.

The hours stretch like amber,
viscous, thick with possibility.
I wade through liquid moments
that slip through my fingers.

Drifting through the velvet dark,
I am smoke between the walls.
Gravity has lost its grip,
the ground beneath me shifts and breathes.

Suspended in this strange new country
where silence has a pulse,
I listen to the emptiness
learning its own language.

Metamorphosis moves slow...
chrysalis of bone and breath...
something stirs within the cocoon
of what remains, what grows...

The liminal space expands,
breathes with tidal rhythm.
I float in this between-time,
learning how to swim.

I see the spaces in between....

The Liminal Space

I gather shards of what I was,
thread silver through forgotten songs.
The shimmer pulses in my chest,
electric whispers in the dark.

My mouth tastes copper, tastes like rain.
I speak in languages of light.

I am painting prayers on empty walls,
feeding honey to the dying flames.
You watch me try to wake the dead,
resurrect the taste of home.

Each miracle melts before it forms,
each blessing turns to ash and wine.
But I keep painting, keep believing.

Your stillness burns through morning fog.
I swallow secrets whole like pills,
plant memories in barren ground,
birth new stars from old wounds.

The tide inside me still remembers...
but the ceremonies fail to hold...
each spell dissolves before it takes...

Maybe resurrection was the wrong word.
Maybe I'm just learning
to love what can't be brought back.

The Resurrection

My on-going tinkering with the kind of sounds I want to hear. Enjoy!

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