Phoenix Down & The Crimson King present:
Lost
Chapter I
--Dance In Sand And Sea--
'If only we remembered
As much as we forget'
The young man was tiered.
Not just tiered, but beaten.
The young man was broken, battered, and felt old. Old. Like so much sand in the eye.
It was cold outside; autumn rose like the moon near the sea.
His dry hands in his pockets began to crack when the wind began to pick up.
It was always windy near the cliffs of the sea.
When he needed to be alone, he just sat there for hours.
He had been there for most of the day.
It must have been, what, eleven, twelve in the morning?
A smile was painted on his face as he sat on the high cliff that merged with the sea.
How can it be that he had never seen another soul tread upon these high cliffs, when the moon calls to the eye and to the lone heart?
And Vincent was the loneliest of all hearts.
He had lost her.
He
Had
Lost
Her.
"So here we are, or, rather, here am I...quite alone..."
Standing up, he brushed the sand from his trousers. The grains were blown away in a swirl of icy grips.
It reminded him of something funny she once said.
How odd it is, that something so small, like a breath of wind, can remind you of these things.
He walked on, heading for the seashore.
"I'm seeing things that we shared before, long ago. My memory stretches. And I am dazed. ....You know.... I know....
"How the time was.
"And,
"How I laughed."
Poetry is an awkward thing.
It smoothes the reckless feelings one has for another; penetrating it into elegant phrases, and harmless harmony.
Emotions are much more brutal. They bleed, like so much... like so much...
Vincent stopped as he reached the seashore. The water ripped upon the sand, and retreated with a frightened roar.
"Times have changed, now you are far away. ... I can't complain: I've had all my chances, but they slipped right through my hands... Like so much sand."
Sand.
Emotions bleed like so much sand.
He slipped off his red cape, and tossed it to the sea.
Away it went, like a puddle of blood in the cool darkness.
"I know I'll never dance like I used to."
He slipped off of his boots, and rested them near the sea. He dipped his toes into the biting waters. It was like icicles, licking his skin with tongues of flame.
The waves bobbed forward and back, forgiving and returning the memories and the lost.
The crimson cape he threw washed up once again ashore. Wet, and draped in seaweeds.
Nothing I forget leaves me completely.
Memories will haunt me forever.
Until I die.
"I'll just wait till day breaks upon land and sea.
Hoping that I can catch all the memories
Then I must crawl off upon my way."
Gently, so gently, a tiny fish swam up near his toes. It felt tiny speckles of sea water drip into his home.
The small fish looked up, and through the foam, it saw a sad man weeping.
The man had outstretched his arms, as if to embrace the night.
His head thrown back, his hair like black nets catching the wind.
His teeth glowed, like a crescent moon on his face.
He was smiling widely.
"Listening hard for the final words.
"But there are none... my love.
"The sunrise calls.
"I have lingered on.
"Too close for comfort.......
"...And I don't know quite why."
The sunlight crucified him as it woke. He stood there. The water underneath his naked feet, his arms welcoming the day.
The fish tasted his tears.
"I feel like crying!
"I know we'll never dance like we used to."
A broken heart is like a burning knife sinking into your flesh, plunging deep inside you.
"And I look up... I am almost blinded by the warmth of what's inside of me.
"And the taste that is in my soul,
Vincent shouted out to the sun:
"But I am dead inside...as I stand alone..."
Then, he turned. The fish dashed off, in order to go on with his small, fish life-never again to taste the tears of a broken man.
Vincent picked up his boots.
His book was nearly complete. One page to go.
And he walked off.
Lost
Chapter I
--Dance In Sand And Sea--
'If only we remembered
As much as we forget'
The young man was tiered.
Not just tiered, but beaten.
The young man was broken, battered, and felt old. Old. Like so much sand in the eye.
It was cold outside; autumn rose like the moon near the sea.
His dry hands in his pockets began to crack when the wind began to pick up.
It was always windy near the cliffs of the sea.
When he needed to be alone, he just sat there for hours.
He had been there for most of the day.
It must have been, what, eleven, twelve in the morning?
A smile was painted on his face as he sat on the high cliff that merged with the sea.
How can it be that he had never seen another soul tread upon these high cliffs, when the moon calls to the eye and to the lone heart?
And Vincent was the loneliest of all hearts.
He had lost her.
He
Had
Lost
Her.
"So here we are, or, rather, here am I...quite alone..."
Standing up, he brushed the sand from his trousers. The grains were blown away in a swirl of icy grips.
It reminded him of something funny she once said.
How odd it is, that something so small, like a breath of wind, can remind you of these things.
He walked on, heading for the seashore.
"I'm seeing things that we shared before, long ago. My memory stretches. And I am dazed. ....You know.... I know....
"How the time was.
"And,
"How I laughed."
Poetry is an awkward thing.
It smoothes the reckless feelings one has for another; penetrating it into elegant phrases, and harmless harmony.
Emotions are much more brutal. They bleed, like so much... like so much...
Vincent stopped as he reached the seashore. The water ripped upon the sand, and retreated with a frightened roar.
"Times have changed, now you are far away. ... I can't complain: I've had all my chances, but they slipped right through my hands... Like so much sand."
Sand.
Emotions bleed like so much sand.
He slipped off his red cape, and tossed it to the sea.
Away it went, like a puddle of blood in the cool darkness.
"I know I'll never dance like I used to."
He slipped off of his boots, and rested them near the sea. He dipped his toes into the biting waters. It was like icicles, licking his skin with tongues of flame.
The waves bobbed forward and back, forgiving and returning the memories and the lost.
The crimson cape he threw washed up once again ashore. Wet, and draped in seaweeds.
Nothing I forget leaves me completely.
Memories will haunt me forever.
Until I die.
"I'll just wait till day breaks upon land and sea.
Hoping that I can catch all the memories
Then I must crawl off upon my way."
Gently, so gently, a tiny fish swam up near his toes. It felt tiny speckles of sea water drip into his home.
The small fish looked up, and through the foam, it saw a sad man weeping.
The man had outstretched his arms, as if to embrace the night.
His head thrown back, his hair like black nets catching the wind.
His teeth glowed, like a crescent moon on his face.
He was smiling widely.
"Listening hard for the final words.
"But there are none... my love.
"The sunrise calls.
"I have lingered on.
"Too close for comfort.......
"...And I don't know quite why."
The sunlight crucified him as it woke. He stood there. The water underneath his naked feet, his arms welcoming the day.
The fish tasted his tears.
"I feel like crying!
"I know we'll never dance like we used to."
A broken heart is like a burning knife sinking into your flesh, plunging deep inside you.
"And I look up... I am almost blinded by the warmth of what's inside of me.
"And the taste that is in my soul,
Vincent shouted out to the sun:
"But I am dead inside...as I stand alone..."
Then, he turned. The fish dashed off, in order to go on with his small, fish life-never again to taste the tears of a broken man.
Vincent picked up his boots.
His book was nearly complete. One page to go.
And he walked off.