Philip Seymor Hoffman by Ülkü Yilmaz
Tiny fractured world
Falls apart in slow motion
Not to rust
My best was not good enough
My life was cracks in the pavement
Gathering what was blown my way.
I did rise with the fateful wind
Doing time in the flowing factories of the heart
The dream factories of the body
I engaged to the fullest
I have disengaged completely
That up there on the screen
Is not me
That was pieces of you.
There is a hunger
A hunger that returns
Again and again
From time to time
Sometimes it makes me afraid
Of the damage that I will do
Some bleak February day
Some bleak February day
You don’t know what it’s like to be me
I know what it is to be you
I proved it a hundred times over in my work.
You say that the work of the heart is magic
But I am no longer here to tell you that it takes
Everything that you’ve got
And then some.
I showed you the inadequacy of happiness
The flash, the close-up, no special effects.
I was the raw material
I was the world that is a canvas that is a song that is a story
That is what it is
And yes, my life was a blue guitar
But I couldn’t change the way things are.
My life became a motel of memory pictures
And there is nothing left now but the recordings
Because I fell through the digital cracks
And because there is a hunger
There is a desire
To make it all go away
You don’t know what they have seen
You don’t know what they have done
You don’t know where they have gone
The clouds have me now
As does the rain
And I really don’t care what you say about me from now on
To me you have always been one and the same
You have no idea for how long I have wanted out of this game
There is this desperation
There is this horizon without hope
I sought a return through the needle so I made my connection to keep me warm inside because outside there are all these cold and conniving faces and there are hallways like mazes with a monster around every corner waiting to eat you alive. You want to know what it’s like?: Well, that is life in the camera’s eye, that is the desolation, that is the silver screen, where everybody wants you to entertain their dreams. There is so much noise up there that you can’t even hear yourself think. The whole world tells you who you are and they are all ravenous children lost in the void of hysterical dead time. The dark ecstasy. Yes I have tasted every drop. The theatre is on fire and everybody has run for the exits except me because I wanted to burn-up with it. I wanted to feel the burn. I wanted to understand the fate of so many. I wanted to experience what has gone wrong. I wanted and I wanted and I wanted and I wanted and I wanted and I wanted and I wanted because there is this hunger. And it will not leave me alone. There are shadows that follow me. There are shadows that want to cover me. There are shadows that want to envelop me. There are shadows that want to swallow me. There are shadows that muffle the cry that comes from the mouth of the wounded heart and turn it into bliss. There are shadows crawling around inside my body and they tell me that they have the solution to everything if I would only give myself over to them. If I would cross that line. If I would be ready to give up everything that I ever had and go down there and drown, drop down into the room full of shadows, the dark place into which you are disassembled back to your organic elements. The promise of disappearance. The promise of resurrection. The promise. The promise. The endless and broken promises that make you wonder what it is all for. The ones that keep you edging towards the door. The promises. Watch me fall. Watch me disappear. I am now what you fear. I am now what breaks your heart.
My final performance on the bathroom floor with a needle hanging out of my arm. My face blue like my dead heart that could take no more, in my dead body crumpled on the bathroom floor.