As most
of the Gods of Grunge
keep killing themselves, it’s apparent
that the burdens
of regret and should-have-beens
weigh too heavy on hearts that carry them.
Yet, it doesn’t change
the feeling
that there’s nothing worth keeping
more than the weight of these chains
of being and remaining unchangeably
oneself.
Rummages Across the Dead Land 
Interesting thought, that the weight of one’s chains upon the self after so long is a comfort, a muse, a desperate need. To me, I cannot be bound and have always floated upward towards airiness, Sky, freedom. I have never gravitated toward the need for being grounded, so the invitation to rebirth and ‘casting off chains’ is most welcome. But I guess not everyone is like that…
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It’s a common saying that change is the only constant in all existence. Yet, it’s just that it feels like some things are worth keeping exactly as they are, as long as one can keep them that way. Change comes over one eventually nonetheless, as memory turns to nostalgia and joy may turn bittersweet.
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You’re right, the weight of the chains is worth it. Painful, arduous and unrelenting, but worth it. At least for now. Why do you suppose the Gods of Grunge do it – because they succumb to the pressure to change so they are no longer themselves?
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Grunge, for me, revolves around the idea of the way things are and the way they ought to be. The ‘ought to be’ is usually unreachable – some things, places, people just aren’t there anymore – hence comes an ever-presence of depression, accompanying the chains of longing, guilt, and regrets. These chains, while constituting a lot of what we define as the self, also eat away at the impermanent flesh they bear their weight upon – as flame consumes the candle that bears it. That’s what I feel, atleast.
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