All minds are solitary in existence. … It’s what makes love so powerful. And makes horror so real. All minds, Horatio, are alone. All minds. All of them. All. … Fuck. … We comprehend our own comprehension, like a set of off-set mirrors allowing a glimpse of the back of your own head. We apprehend […]Read More *yorick not included.
And thus the world wobbles on its way. Wobble, wobble. Wobble, wobble. Wobble. Wobble. hey. Sometimes things don’t go as you’d hoped. Sometimes, they do; but not the way you’d planned. Sometimes, well, it doesn’t really matter does it? Because whatever you thought is irrelevant in the face of what is. The storming momentum of […]Read More i shall wear victory.
Show don’t tell, they say. How can I relay the sour, trembling pain that rises from the gut up through successive clenched innards until finally, burning, it claws at your throat? The mind goes numb in an attempt to escape the shadows of external realities cast therein; fleeing, particularly, the terrible knowledge that it has […]Read More this poverty of mine.
Recently I wrote on a scrap of paper, and later on Twitter, something that cuts quite close to my heart. It was a spur of the moment scrawl amid other note taking I made as I worked through the opening pages of Augustine’s Confessions. Not the first time I’ve picked it up, but it felt […]Read More staring at the sky.
I think I lost my voice when I was twenty. I only realised this tonight, which is why I’m writing it out here now; in case the draft of sleep steals the knowledge of what was lost before I wake and instead I’m left with yet another unknown hole in my heart and in my […]Read More narnia.
Where do the tears go? Can anybody tell me? The burn of unwrought weeping fills my sinus, creeps down my throat, behind my eyes, and into my gut. There comes a point when the weight and stress has gone on for too long, the anxiety, the self-loathing and flagellation, has all gone on for too […]Read More oasis.
It’s been a while — what feels like a damn long while — since I last felt like there was room. Room to think. To breath. To be myself without the hot breath of calamity — that is to say life — washing over my neck and rendering the whole day one endless attempt to […]Read More running water in the dead of night.