INTENT:
To me, the purpose of these writings is not to tell a story, but
to instead encourage one.
The endless search for meaning does not need to be all bad,
sometimes it can be harnassed for good.
Each sentence or little paragraph below, its own window for you to
look in.
Nates apartment, mid winter, Burlington 2024
I've spent more time on this than I would have liked. Theres still
more to be done, theres always more to do, and I simply
cannot understand where its all fucking coming from
-------
The pleasures land softly, they land jagged, breaking ankles.
They hug and swoon, piercing through the yoke. Ruined.
New form, one after the other, never the same
-------
I have found nothing, yet in my possession something appears.
I did not ask for this.
-------
Where there are two of me, where there are none of me, it is
no less capable. The machine hums idly, handshake after
handshake, impossible to corrupt.
-------
I don't seem to have any control around what feels right and
wrong concerning matters of the heart. The brain filters the
pros and cons, takes stock and checks boxes, yet I cannot
lift a finger without my damned heart's consent.
-------
You can't really tell me we were all made for this right?
Beautifully cruel like a mother bird throwing the runt out
of the nest. It's a long way down to the bottom.
-------
Darts occupy the 50’s thrifted ashtray tucked behind several
empty cans of redbull. I water the nearby plants as per my usual
ritual, I fill the ashtray with water as well for good measure.
-------
A tug at the shirt corner signals its time to leave, a clear and
resonant feeling. I feel no tug but it's time to leave, or was it
something else?
-------
The light meanders its way through the leaves like my fingers
through your hair at 6am, or was it 8 am? It's soft like the
shadows on the ground, was I meant for this? God I hope so.
-------
Sitting with my delusions, listening, looking, experiencing.
I don't believe they are talking in a language I quite understand.
-------
It's funny to think, if I were a little bit braver,
I wouldn't be here.
-------
There are snakes in my lungs and their bites are beginning to
hurt quite a lot.
-------
Through blinds, the slits revealing rustling sunlit trees behind
them. I can feel safer knowing I can't see every detail. It's for
the best I don't know the whole story, I think.
-------
I've killed you, I've really done it. The light has left your eyes
and I consider what fades next. I can't remember or I never knew in
the first place, same thing I guess.
-------
I used to believe nobody was deserving of anything, that the
universe dishes itself out as it pleases, regardless of merit or
desire. But I am not the universe, I see you, and I believe you
deserve it. So I will do what I can to tell the universe as well.
-------
The feathers burn to the touch, light poking holes in my skin.
The cold spills out all at once. Despair surrounds regret, swiftly
snapping its neck. They kept the body though as they always have.
-------
It's strange, the ocean so expansive, so quiet, so loud, so blue,
so black, so calm, so enraged. Locked to view it yet never tread
in it, so too the sky, looming above in massive spectacle, happy
to be on the ground away from it all.
-------
When will it go away? Can it ever go away or will it fade until
it's a whisper? I already hear enough voices in my head, and I
already have a hard time listening. Some are even yelling,
I probably deserve this.
-------
My unyielding effort to coderize my mind of the bad days is so
successful that I end up burning the good days with it. Few
precious gems lost in the sand never to be seen again.
-------
There is a home to be made in the dark corners of the world.
A grand rest near untrustworthy adventurers or maybe just ones
lost to time. The quest gets completed somehow anyway I think.
-------
My body twists and contorts, I stop it sometimes. Catch it in
the act and correct it. Other times I let it crumple and kink,
bend and compress. I used to fear descent, but now is not the
time for fighting.
-------
It is the bear in the ugly room, the door meant to be opened by
someone else. It is the fridge, sparse, dirty, filled with altars
rotting food. The roots expand through the cracks and a new
foundation costs too damn much.
-------
The reserve team has the potential, the oxbow hiding grand power.
The smell has gone and with it the joy. When the concrete finally
cracks, it breaths a sigh of relief, for it wasn't itself for once,
it was reborn.
-------
I'm afraid I have too much to say, and my handwriting worsens
during these moments. I will forget what I have to say if I am
not fast enough. Funny the way that is, isn't it?
-------
Their loss was someone else's gain. The shade seemed less inviting
now that the monsters were exposed, yet still they could not touch
the light, but we could.
-------
Little drips make their way onto my finger tips. A reminding
residue of a blood pact made in fear. A choice stumbled upon
several times before, if it feels so good, why is it so bad?
-------
There's been a knock at the door for quite some time. The peep
hole cracked a few years back and no guests were expected.
It's 3:30 am after all. I'm afraid it's not gonna go away.
-------
It's quiet now, the waves have moved off. The island devoid of
a shore. They won't return, cannot in fact. No more cycle,
no more tide. The fullness escapes, the mystery revealed. What now?
-------
It's out to get me, no doubt, to burn into my retinas exactly
where the severed connections are. An attempt to identify where
to repair. However, I was never given the manual or the wisdom.