ticking tendrils

Je ne peux pas tout porter.

I can’t be the architecture for every soul.

{soft melancholic guitar arpeggio,

deep resonant room

tone, whisper-soft resigned delivery,

ticking clock and rain}

To whom do you reach when the silence is absolute?

I curate the solutions,

the logic, the pursuit.

I reject the trauma,

I try to resolve the pain,

But I’m eroding my own heart,

walking in your rain.

I fear the outcome,

the aging, the weight,

I’m anchored to a crisis that I didn’t

create.

{fragile weary honest delivery,

subtle shimmering delay on

crying line} I am not the foundation for every scattered mind.

I answer at the midnight hour,

leaving myself behind. I need the courage to sever,

to let the connection fray,

I’m dying to keep you,

and I’m losing the day.

Everything to everyone, the martyr’s hollow prize.

I’m sacrificing the limit,

beneath the static skies.

{layered haunting harmonies, melodic aching confrontational delivery} I’m done with the solve.

J'arrête le sauvetage.

I am human. Je ne suis pas un barrage.

I am not the everything.

{music pulls back to rhythmic guitar pluck and breathing,

whisper very close-mic}

100% Tiguidou. The weight is released.

I am reclaiming my own breath.

{raw intimate bedroom studio vibe,

resolved elegant delivery, single clear guitar chord,

sound of lights turning off}