Mean As Custard (calico_pye) wrote,
Mean As Custard
calico_pye

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In Your Room



In your room
Where time stands still
Or moves at your will
Will you let the morning come soon?
Or will you leave me lying here?
In your favourite darkness
Your favourite half-light
Your favourite consciousness
Your favourite slave

In your room
Where souls disappear
Only you exist here
Will you lead me to your armchair?
Or leave me lying here?
Your favourite innocence
Your favourite prize
Your favourite smile
Your favourite slave

I'm hanging on your words
Living on your breath
Feeling with your skin
Will I always be here?

In your room
Your burning eyes
Cause flames to arise
Will you let the fire die down soon?
Or will I always be here?
Your favourite passion
Your favourite game
Your favourite mirror
Your favourite slave

I'm hanging on your words
Living on your breath
Feeling with your skin
Will I always be here?

Will I always be here?



In your room...Last night, I dreamt of my old house (circa early nineties), but for irony's sake i will nickname it Grimmauld Place (I know - all the HP fans will be filled with distaste).  The house was empty, save for the carpets and my old pale blue bedroom. Where time stands still....I slept on the oatmeal carpet, sun shone through the curtain-less window and I could feel the rays on my face. Will you let the morning come soon...?  In this dream, I had woken and padded downstairs - to find a twin self sleeping on the hideous spiral carpet in my front room. I laid on my side, trying to reassure the twin self, who was cold and running with sweat - that everything was going to be OK. Or will you leave me lying here....? We both closed our eyes and the sun warmed our faces and the souls of our feet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Out of any dreams I have about the places I have lived, I only dream of this house.  Not my childhood one, or the current one - I continually return here. I have mixed feelings about this place; I experienced a paradox of the emptiness of being lonely, but also the solitude of being alone.  I was self-sufficient and and had the most 'unchecked' creativity there i.e. I did art that pleased me rather than other people (murals, indie music and tie-dye clothes - ah the nineties). Yet I would say that I am happier and have achieved more creatively (and more successfully) as a mature adult, where I am now. I have no yearnings to return to my twenties - in fact I would dread returning there, whether in my old house or otherwise. During the dream, I heard this song. Why do I feel that I have lost something?

Will I always be here?
Tags: 9 grimmauld place, cm, dave gahan, depeche mode, dream, haunted house, vids 2014
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