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"You mean to say you came all this way just to stop this short?"

"I suppose. But--"

"But? But what? 'The conditions weren't right', 'you don't have inspiration', 'the pills make you soft, happy, and pliable.'"

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it? What's(more)
It pulses and twists and rolls and squirms. Flummoxing, he finds it. Vexing. The brain's chords plucked and pulled out of order, out of tune. Unfocused and wild it wanders through, twisting its way between his ears and down his spine.
As always he limped ever after what had come before. Stunted, hungry, grasping onto what little he could if only for a moment before it slipped away back into an ether that he can't hope to pierce.

He fell to his knees and waited.
"That's nice of you," she said, almost dismissively as she tapped her fingers on her keyboard waiting impatiently for the reports to load.

"I didn't do it to be _nice_, I did it because it was needed."

"But it was still a favor to them, wasn't it?"(more)
They are the experts, and yet you will be the one to suffer in the end. For they know all, but never what's best.
Hidden in the movie were the smallest details that you could only glean time after time after time of watching the same scenes over and over again. It's not until you can mimic the scenes, breathe the performance that it all becomes apparent.
Saying that anyone has grit is a blasphemy to all that's come before it.

Moments and spaces in time are disjointed, random, nonlinear. To have grit is to say you can handle it, that you can put forth with the sordid memories, the deep regrets, the quiet moments(more)
It wasn't enough, it never was, never could be.

I pulled over about 30 miles outside Seeley Lake, having been on the road for almost 20 hours. Mountains on all sides. Dense undergrowth and trees in a corridor all along the lakes. Dirt roads leading to trailheads and(more)
Wooden interactions. Small talk punctuated with work jargon. Where once fire and passion burned, little embers slowly died, snuffed out where once they wanted to spread and grow and burn the world to its foundations.
I thought when I came out of the mountains I'd be a whole new guy, but instead I was just the same with a few photographs in tow. Memory baggage.

The idea that you can run away and become someone new has become bullshit to me. The traumas,(more)
I had some good shit written, and when I pressed backspace to edit it deleted the whole goddamn thing. So then I smoked a cigar and chewed a guitar pic instead.

Sometimes, you just wanna say 'Fuck it,' ya know? Leave your thoughts never opened. Instead they'd sit(more)
For a long time I've framed myself the distancing type. I always leave, I keep my feelings to myself left to rot deep down somewhere inside where they turn to bitterness and a longing for fantasies that may never be.
"Whisky for your life, bruv?"

"Fair a deal as any."
Sinead O'Connor was found and is fine. Stop already.

The buffalo is dead, euthanized, because you were too careless to leave only footprints in your environment. Stop already.
Say it's cool mate.

It's cool mate.

Dingoes in the hall, ravenous blenders of teeth and fur. It's cool mate.

Gun to his head, his mouth. Teeth chattering porcelain chimes against steady steel and polycarbon mold.

Squeeze the trigger, paint the walls. A click(more)