I still remember the first time I heard “Nights in White Satin”. I was16 and I just OD’d and my mom didn’t wanna deal with more of my suicide attempts so I sort of left home for awhile. I went up north to my uncles but he was out of town and I had no where to go so I called this older guy I knew (who I’ll call Mr. P for now) who came and picked me up from a Dean and Delucas. He asked what I wanted to do, I said die. So he asked where I wanted to go, and I said upstate. So we drove towards Middleburgh. And I just remember how dark it was that night and the forest lined highways and how the street lamps glared off his pale hair.
Then the song came on. The Moody Blues on cassette, Nights in White Satin. Everything was dark and everything was quiet.
It’s like a perfect memory. I remember the smell of his hoodie around me, the tastes in my mouth, how cold the air was, the smirk on his face, the direction of the lights. That night with that song changed my life.
My own private river
Forged of his hands
As gently as they do,
Through the hills that edge
My body, longingly,
Dividing my lips to two
Different shades of Autumn
On the crescent of our mouths.
Leave me here,
Where I am with you.
If only in traces of dirt
That were never wiped
Away from your fingertips.
I can hear the roll of thunder
Collapsing from beyond the
Trees, ripples in the river
That flow into the creek—
That whisper in your voice
And touch me as if I were still
if you are a girl or just a person just a fucking human being and you’re talking shit to luke hemmings about his fucking acne then you need to take ur tired little cunt ass back to grade school bitch bc aint nobody got time for your ugly ass opinions.
And it’s awesome because she started as this fucking proper Lady who was expected to marry a wealthy and accomplished, but one she did not love, but instead fell for the blacksmith and became a pirate, fucking shit up and taking names.
And she rocked every fucking second of her story, from Lady to Pirate King.
“missing: in a quiet place that’s green
where neon seascapes all are smiling
and the white windmills barely speak
where diamond panther eyes are violet
and the sobbing moon never sleeps
suspended by shallow light
between two arguing palomino trees
in a fish net made of stardust
with hollow cups full of angels blood
to calm the devils below this place
all you will feel here is warmth
you wont feel them peeling
you wont feel them breathing
all you will feel is warm
idol of my restless sleep
vying here and dying here, beside you
beneath giants named suicide and grief,
with pale Gods living
through white noise and static screams
the planets here are ghosts waiting
behind the black screens of empty TVs
pass the fucking weed
never stop watching
ill be smoking there with them
when you come to resurrect me”—SAD.3