(Em,G,D)
O,Please don’t leave here without me
(Em,D,G)
O,Please don’t leave me behind
(Em,G,D)
O,Please don’t leave me forever
(Em,D,G)
O,Please let me stay by your side.

(Am, C, G)
Now you’re with me, I feel so alive
Now you’re with me, to share in my life
Now you’re with me, I am not alone
Now you’re with me, my love has grown

(Em,G,D)
O,Please don’t leave here without me
(Em,D,G)
O,Please don’t leave me behind
(Em,G,D)
O,Please don’t leave me forever
(Em,D,G)
O,Please let me stay by your side.

However the interesting part is not the in exact idea which is fed to letters and words (no matter the merit and sacrifice entwined with the origins) but how those are in turn translated by the minds eye of the interpreter. A very easy exercise to undertake yet still illustrates the quite interesting truth lies in simple experience. If I mention cat, what first enters your mind? A simple tabby, a fun calico or a majestic Siamese? These simple twists and turns of interpretations mixed with personal experiences assemble a wide variety of variable cocktails effectively making writing not only a tool of the mind of the originator, but of that of the interpreter.

This may seem like a stumbling block at first, deciding how to elaborate on a subject so the reader is thinking the same thing as the writer, but the magic comes from where the reader must fill in the blanks of description. Where the reader must piece together the features of a protagonists face, or the meadow in which he stands. Or if we stretch this fiction further, how about the undescribed or even mentioned features. Perhaps the readers mind places birds in that meadow, or the sounds of various insects. Again the readers personal experiences play an intense part. When you thought of the meadow, were there crickets or perhaps a rush of wind? Was there the trace scent of roses or maybe lilocs or in another extreme, manure from a farmers field? How many of those scents did you just attempt to draw from your memory? I am gleaming with delight as you read this, thinking of how you look right now, running through your mind, mining for experiences in your memory to fulfill your interpretaions. Was the grass green or the wheat yellow? Did you just see that butterfly tumble by?

Thus you begin to see how this cocktail of variables will create a personalized drink for each and every mind to draw from. There is so much beauty in this, in its unfathomable complexity. So much changes when pictures in a mind become words which then become pictures in another mind. A chaotic dance of dynamic connections.

http://shadowssmile.deviantart.com/

During late the midnight hour, when clock hands merge into a tower,
I sat and typed, message windows covered the screen galore,
Suddenly a link was sent, and to my browser I doth went.
When I opened browser updated to version number four
I came to dead link, a lost page, a four oh four.
Seeming only this, and nothing more.

I saw that it was a red moon, most associated with gathering gloom
Torrents ticking, hitting percentage number four,
I wished this end, so pirated movies I could send,
Thus I stood and walked to my wooden door,
Thinking of hunger I walked to my wooden door,
As I left, I heard “Nevermore”

This noise it came from speaker, my face could go no bleaker,
When I gazed to screen, there it was link four oh four,
It said at 4am on the dot, my hard drive would figuratively rot,
Curse who sent me that link from my message windows galore,
Who I now cannot find from my message windows galore,
Links I now hate, forever more.

I quickly ran the virus scanner, when quickly up popped advertisement banner
“Why did I click it”, to the gods I did implore
Furiously I tried in vain; it was like trying to stop the rain
I threw my keyboard at my door,
Watched it bang and bounce off my door.
I picked it up, and set it as before.

I try to calm my teeming flood, but my anger was a flood,
I looked at the hole now present in my door.
Ashamed something so simple, caused my mind to dishevel
But now computer cleaning would become a chore
Yes, I can beat this, I can unwork this chore
It’s only a virus, and nothing more.

I verily began to type, though my anger was still quite ripe,
Research began into this ill-begotten four oh four
I let myself a noticed gasp, as the concept I did grasp
Into this nature of this four oh four,
Into this Trojan called four oh four,
I had his, but needed more.

I loaded tools from the net, this I must beat my mind was set,
I would beat and conquer this four oh four,
As every attempt began to flounder, the noise on speaker grew much louder
It repeated as before the word only, “nevermore”
It would say it as in laughter “nevermore.”
I, hoping it was this, and nothing more.

The speakers I did power down, so I would not hear this sound.
But still I heard this nevermore.
“Am I going mad I thought”, what this virus has awrought?
The frustration caused by this four oh four
The sound in my head from this four oh four
I will remember it, forever more.

I put my ear to speakers’ side; there came no sound from inside,
It must be in my head which I hear the “nevermore”
Then I noticed the clock ticking, the edge of four it was licking
The screen began to flash the link to four oh four
Oh how it filled the room with light, this four oh four
Followed by the sound, “nevermore”

I shut it down devil’s haste, my breathing quickened, my heart raced
The screen went black, no colours it now bore.
Then it started with my hands departed,
It loaded itself and went to page four oh four,
It sat and began itself going to page four oh four
My sanity was shattered forever more.

I dropped to knees, hands clasped and feeling the breeze,
Caused from fan with silent roar.
I saw the clock tick down, second hand going round
“Please stop” to the computer I did implore,
“I won’t click it again” I did implore,
All that came, was “nevermore”

I curled up on floor ice cold, listening to virus speaking bold
When I saw the clock did strike the number four
My mind was gone, how could I have been so wrong,
To click the link to four oh four
To read that page of four oh four.
Thus my computer declared “nevermore”

When I heard the awful chime, reminding me of the time
I then looked up and saw the machine as before
The virus had run a different course, still with feeling unremorse
Leaving desktop painted in the word “nevermore”
Doing this, but nothing else, with the word “nevermore”
With my hands, my hair, I tore.

Insanity is what it left my mind, this virus so very unkind,
Leaving the message from four oh four
It haunted my misladen soul, taken its ghastly toll,
I lay on floor and mumbled “nevermore”
Could think of nothing else but “nevermore”
My mind was lost forevermore.

After gathering my composure, warming from the cold floor exposure
I unplugged the machine from one of the plugs galore
I sat and pondered the situation, feeling the built frustration
Caused from link four oh four
Oh that cursed link four oh four.
How it haunts me, forevermore.

When my strength returned at last, I began the reheartened task,
Of fixing my computer as before.
As the monitor filled the room with light, my eyes choked on ill begotten fright
As I stared at the screen much like before
Painted with the word but with more as before
This will go away, nevermore.

So to this day it happens, each time a part of my soul entrapens,
Seeing my desktop littered with the word nevermore
I have tried to great exhaustion, to not continue being hostage
By this virus from link four oh four
By this cursed being from link four oh four
But I shall be free of it – Nevermore!

Bored is what you grow at present, entertaining yourself through manifesting, by use of your foul extremities, whirlpools in the sea of knowledge. You take it upon yourself to swirl all into one, into nothing, into else. Here, after your unwelcome hand swimming, you turn your attention upon the endeavor of optical unrest. Shadow puppets cast in the sensory of the eyes, you create. Dancing, teasing, shapes, patterns, some plucked from the flow, some from the sea, others invented for your own sadistic pleasure.

A thought drifts past your current whereabouts, a curse upon your trifling. Another follows suit shortly. Here these mental assaults against you despicable being dam the flow and damn your presence. The flow rises, unable to route past the new blockage. You scramble like a cowardly sheep to search for high ground, but your assumed employment from an unwanting employer is approaching termination. Harshly you kick and flail at the dam of thought, throwing further ideals into disarray, but to no avail does the dam give way.

There, in those last moments, you wretched leech, you do feel a clawing at your tainted mind, as of something circling to find a manicured placement of choice…

Mathematics has been my only language in the past while. Flexing the muscles of differentiation and linear algebra became the daily routine, while forgetting to even stretch out literary creativity. Number crunches took the place of poetry, integrals enveloped short stories and matrices swallowed novels. This has left a massive deficit in my mind, a hole that has grown to proportions beyond the quantification of the systems of communication in the mathematical lingo.

The title was chosen very specifically, as it pertains to the topic of discussion to the utmost. If my writing ability were to whither entirely, I would not know what to call it anymore. The poor wretch would die in a place which could not name it if it wanted to. I am choosing consciously to intervene and, with high hopes, resuscitate this close friend of expression.

Wish me luck, for as with any muscle regaining use or bloodflow, it may be done with great pains.

Most of humanity finds comfort knowing that who they really are will never be known. They are comfortable knowing that the odd little quirks in their minds will not become public. They are happy knowing that they will live life as someone else.

Why are people so afraid of themselves?

One idea I have tossed around in my head is that these phony existences act like a skin, which can be shedded based on experience and on situation. People can toss on the skin of which best suits their current situation, when it is marred, it can be tossed aside. This may leave the main gooey center relatively unscathed. The trouble is, society is based on networks. In order for this to function, one “node” must be able to recognize or “know” another to communicate. When the skin is shedded, it must be replaced by something different. This leads to a continuous confusion and many problems will occur, killing the network.

However, there is another side, when one becomes trapped in the network. They are forced to wear the marred skin in order to survive in the society in which they are trapped in. Each time that skin suffers an attack, it rips, tears and shreds. Since the protection is gone, the gooey core will begin to take a beating, trying desperately to keep up the lost skin. Pretty soon the core will be pierced and will fall apart. At this point some will reach for alternative sources of relief, trying to escape the reality in which they created to escape their real reality, huzzah for circles! Some go for recreational drugs, some alcohol, some sex, some suicide.

I always get a kick out of seeing a moth trying to be a butterfly. I do feel very free to be degrading at times with such similes because it is very much an ugly duckling situation. They look awful trying to be something they are not, when they could be absolutely stunning being what they are. Which in turn leads my to my conclusion.

When you are yourself, you have a single chance in any situation. There is no skin to shed, to mask to drop, no smoke to hide in. All or nothing is the only choice. This type of gamble scares alot of people, especially when it comes to social acceptance. But frankly, I feel a little rejection is thousands of times better then the hell you can go through trying to be something you never can be, no matter how much work you put into it. That center may be gooey, but it’s where the heart is and when you try and kill that, you’ll just end up killing yourself.

Just out of personal experience, I have seen through people that are trying to live behind a lie of a life. When I confronted them, all I saw was fear, fear that someone could see that gooey center like it was exposed to the world. How can people live like that, in absolute fear that someone may see what they really are?

I try to surround myself with people who will not do what I have mentioned above, with those who are genuine and themselves. Closed or open doesn’t matter, extrovert or introvert. They are who they are, and know that I accept them as such, and thank them for being just that. I appreciate and enjoy their company. I hope to the fullest extant that I reciprocate the same aura, the same knowledge that the person they talk with, is in fact, exactly the person they talk with.