Heathens - De Revuelta

Spare me the apathy. Get on a boat and follow me deep down, deeper and deeper until we find waters of the Underworld. We can transform into things we can never be and live like that until the real ones come. Let go of the earthly reality. Smile, just a little. Let your smile burn. Let the awareness creep into your eyes. When that smile is nothing but ashes, we’ll follow the sirens to where we belong: sea of no ones. Maybe we can be happy there. Perhaps that's what we'll ever be. Broken images of perfection. Distorted perception. Accept the fierce urgency to contain and enfold each other, lost in sensory overload and gentle warmth. Hit the brakes - non-existent, why, yes - but hit them hard and save that last bit which shall stay with you and me forever: a reminder of the fact that another day will never come and we'll drown in symbols. Siren songs and symbols. Transcendence and the nagging feeling that something is quite not right even in the place where we were meant to be.

Let it go. Moon will shine, silver and blue, and I will kiss you. Lips, venom, you. The howl of the night and the pathetic irony of apathetic desire. Drown. Drown. Submerge. Resurface. Deafening clichés and breathtaking touch. You and me, drowning. The boat will end up on the shore of a desolate island, smashed to pieces, and no one will know where we ended up. Only me. Only your Persephone. The one who would do and give anything for you. The one you always keep on the edge of the shadows. The invisible rage will incinerate your heart and the moon. The blue moonlight in flames will descend upon you and your translucent shape, and you will scream my name to prove you're right. The fight. The pain. The heartbreaking attempt of romance. Oh how very pathetic.

Let us go. Run. Run for the hills. Further into the depths of the island. The forest cracking and the future crumbling beneath our feet. Bits and pieces of my dress torn away by unforgiving branches. Alluring scarlet lines on the flesh, I will press my lips against them to soothe the sting. It's not the time yet. Not gold yet. Just silver and blue. That's all we are. Blue stories, blue bruises, silver stars, and the universe turning and twisting against and alongside us. "I think I love you," you'll whisper softly into my ear. "But I can never be sure." In the shadows of a thousand promises, each lost to seeds of rejection, fleeing towards something bright but nowhere in sight. Beats and pauses. Oh let me soak in your sins. Lunge forward. Slam. Roll. Rinse and repeat. Wrapped in faux-velvet comfort of a sweet death. A thousand more in the brink of the sun. Embers flaring in distance. Remember that day you decided to leave? You sang to me: "I might never see the light, but I will chase it through the night." Back then it sounded like the call of fate, I chose to believe it. Beauty in your voice enchanted me and I said okay. Somehow you assured me that we would be together again. Sands of time. It wasn't the truth at first but it became the truth; I reclaimed you. It was the sun hanging from my fingertips and to the corner of your lips. Licking the ice, I made you mine. Now we're lost together forever. Misconstrued stories in our blood. Stories that were cut off in the middle. That is now us. That will be us. Forever. Together as one. Against our forgotten hopes. Against ourselves. Kiss me, touch me, bite me, love me, break me, hurt me, choke me, cleanse me, fight me, deny me, hurt me, fear me, resent me, hate me, burn me, burn me, burn me into the ground. None of it matters anymore. You're mine. Let it go. Let it all turn black.

#PortNoir