There were no stars in the sky, just a dull grey that meant more to me than anything anyone could say.
She dressed up, slowly, reluctantly and left.
She had a name, but as nights gave way to day, they
all started to become the same, to me.
And who am I?
On paper I’m a rock star, no guitar, no leather
tights, but a rock star all the same.
In reality they call me Abel, no relation in blood,
or in kind with the fabled junior brother that got himself killed over
sacrifice.
Sacrifice. There’s something I relate to. It’s
funny that even when you have nothing there’s always something to sacrifice.
You can pull out a knife and slit your own throat at the very least.
Sacrifice less to have more. That’s what I did
wasn’t it? Threw myself to the winds and sacrificed being grounded for a flight
of fancy.
Do you fancy how an Antelope looks before it gets
killed? Yeah, everyone does. Nothing, not the venison or the smell of roast
beef can compare to that moment where life is translated into blood.
But we were talking about sacrifice weren’t we? It’s
shocking that you haven’t figured it out yet. I’m going to call it quits at the
label tomorrow.
Remember that girl from “Belong to the World”? She
OD’d the other day. Yeah I saw it on the news; it didn’t really resonate with
me till I was smoking a pack with the boys and felt some religion sneak up on
me.
“Yo, guys. What if there’s more to life than all
this?
It sounded stupid the moment it left my lips like,
what could be better than all this right? So I called the girl over, let’s just
call her “she” for the sake of conversation.
She came over and between the third and the fourth
round I’d already gotten half a verse and a hook. Then there was a blunder, I looked.
I looked into her eyes man, these wide white eyes
with a little black spot in the middle. I looked into them and saw that she was
searching for something.
I saw and knew that she would certainly not find it
with me. Whatever it is she’s looking for.
But it got me thinking all the same. What if she
looked in my eyes and saw the exact same thing? What if I too was searching for
something I didn’t know I was looking for and she knew I couldn’t find it? You
know, pointless like tears in the rain.
So I quit the label. But it’s usually about the time
you start quitting things you realise there’s no quitting yourself.
The hiatus was good for me though. If all I do is
write myself away then I got more of me to write. And I did, the truth, which
more than anyone could ask of me, more than most can do.
It’s always easy to paint a picture of a person that
isn’t standing too close to you. You can capture an emotion for a duration, you
can capture an action but how do you capture being? What I think, who I am, I
actually have to know to put it all down, and that’s to that, but there was
just one catch though.
She came back. Well not literally. I stumbled upon
her picture in a column in the newspaper. She was married. There was a nice big
grin on the lucky man’s face, and her eyes.
Her eyes man, even in black and white our souls lay
bare. I could see in the back of her eyes was disquiet. A certain disquiet I knew all too well. It was
the same one I got when I momentarily quit the label. It’s a fear.
Not really a fear of inactivity, more like the fear
of what comes after inebriation, a fear of the crash after the high, but…
That’s a word isn’t it, “but”? It’s that slight
distinction between Pepsi and Coke, the flaw in the diamond.
But there was something else, something more
prominent, in the foreground of her eyes. Those eyes that were wide and white,
with a little black spot in the middle.
They had found it, whatever it is.
She found it.
“Be the flame, not the
moth.”-Giacomo Casanova
“How long will
you be heavy of heart, why love what is vain and chase after illusions?”-King
David
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