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October 2008

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Sweeney Todd

Untitled [9-12-07]

Do you feel it? 

The twitching in your fingers, this uncontrollable urge to do, just do something.

Do you see it? 

Look into my eyes. 

Do you fucking see it? Do you see it in me? 

Because I can feel it, I can feel it so strongly. Like it may overtake me, take me over. 

Am I the only one? Does this feeling, this urge, this fucking thing affect anyone else? 

It's like the swell of the ocean, rising, knocking you down, dragging you back into it's hold. 

Do you feel it? Do you see it in my eyes? 

Look at me, look harder, it's there, I know it's there. 

Do you see this thing? How can you not? 

Because I can feel it, in every fucking inch of me, I feel it. I feel it all over, this fucking urge, this damn need. I don't think muse is the right word. For last I checked muses sang and this thing is screaming. I hear it, it drowns out everything else, it's deafening. And I can feel it. My skin crawls from it. I see it, I hear it, I feel it, I fucking breathe it. It's this overwhelming desire to create something. To make something. To be something. 

Do you see it? 

Look into my eyes. Tell me you don't feel it. 

Am I the only one, the only one who sees? 

Tell me you can hear it. 

Hear it whispering, hear it screaming. 

Feel it grab you? 

Am I the only one? The only one afflicted with this force, this pull, this beast. 

Did they feel it? All the artists, gone and past. Is this what they feel? This need to do. This need to be. I have it in me, and it begs to be let out. Through a pen, a brush, a movement. This thing pushing to be unleashed. Is this inspiration? Is this what it feels like? This unnerving give and take, if you don't use up this surge in creativity, it uses you up. If you can't make something of it, it breaks something inside of you. It's all a balancing game, innovation or destruction. 

Is this what all those artists felt. All those artists before me.

Did they see it? 

Could you see it in their eyes? 

Did they feel it taking over them? 

Is this what made them do it? Write the perfect love story, find beauty behind asylum walls, compose a symphony they'd never hear? 

Is this what made them do it? Cut off their ears, overdose, take their lives? Is that what they get for not listening? For fighting this thing? 

Did they feel it? 

Is this what it feels like? 

Look into my eyes, just look. Do you see it? 

Do you see it? 

Because I can feel it. I can feel it, and I can hear it. 

Do you see it? 

Did you tell them you didn't see it? Is that why they took their lives? 

Did you tell them you saw nothing? 

How could you not see it? 

They felt, I know they must have felt it. Because I can feel it. I can feel it.  

They felt it, and they heard, didn't you see it in their eyes? 

Because I can see it, I look in the mirror and I see it. I can see it in my eyes. I can see them, and I see what they saw. I see it, and I feel it, I feel them in me. It's all in me. The life of an artist, one recycled soul, used over and over. Over and over, they've felt it. I feel it. 

Did you see it then? Do you see it now? 

It's in me, it's all in me. 

Because I can feel it. It's all I feel, it's all I need. I'm merely a vessel for this pre-used soul. Recycled over and over. 

In my hand-me-down soul I feel it. I am not unique or special. I am just an means to an end. I'm a slave to my art, to their art, to all of it. 

I can feel it, and I know what I'm supposed to do. 

I feel it and I know who I am. 

Do you see it? 

Look into my eyes. Tell me that you see it. 

Because I can feel it pulsing in my veins, I can hear it. 

I feel it and I know. I know what I am. What I've always been. What I'll always be. 

I feel it and I know why I'm here. What I'm meant to do. To let it out. To always let it out, or be crushed under its weight. It's done them in, so many before me. It's squeezed the life right out of them. 

They tried to fight it. They'll never win. 

I'll never win. 

I feel it, and I'm letting it out. All these words, they release the pressure, ease the pain from the extreme need. 

I felt it. 

I still feel it. 

But now I can breathe. It's what I breathe, it's all I am. 

Do you feel it? 

Do you see it? 

Look into my eyes and tell me. 

Look into my eyes like you looked into theirs and tell me. 

Do you see it?