Sometimes my thoughts are dictated by some kind of boa-constrictor logic that coils, tightens and condenses into a rough diamond that needs to be painfully spat out. One of my first thoughts is more a fear – a fear of being born in reverse. Then denials, wishes, mistrust of distrusting people, malcontents and misconstruals.
Living is like pissing in a hurricane really – or having your foot stuck in a trap and enjoying the flavour. I’m stuck in a hole, and I don’t know if it will be deep enough. A chasm – endless, following the eternal bullet that penetrates forever. You can only fall so fast before you reach terminal velocity, then your speed remains constant. The rush disappears and homeostasis sets in like rot. Maybe if I nailed my heart to the wind and left it behind, I wouldn’t yearn for things so much.
A new one. Sort of flash fiction or something. Fucked if I know.