the moon and the stars and the look in your eyes

fandom birthday and right now i'm so far behind i think the idea will last forever. hard to justify sitting down to write, to draw, to create when outside the closed door (a barrier in it's own right) tension vibrates, heavy and breath-catching like the string of a violin plucked in an empty auditorium, the note ringing off the walls and the air and the metal of the strings. The tension is like that but without the beauty of sound. I need the noise otherwise the tension tightens in my chest, like screwing my courage to the sticking place, like adjusting an out on tune guitar string.

what do you do with this tension? I cannot ignore it, i can't when i feel it shaving my skin. I try to sooth it with a frantic melody, obnoxious and maybe not the most melodic but an attempt at such.

maybe i'll just lie back and play my own melody for a while