good morning
As usual when faced with a blank screen, i do what any good creative person would do; i procrastinate. i open another browser window and head to wikipedia. i scratch my crotch. it's enjoyable. i scratch some more. a couple of minutes later i realise i'm not just scratching anymore. i stop, and come back to the screen.
it's a challenge, the blankness. it's saying fuck you, you couldn't fill this if you needed to. well fuck that shit, i've got a lot to say.
have you ever walked down the road and blinked and then realised you've suddenly recieved a whole new perspective on things? no? me neither. shit doesn't happen that easily around here. me i've got to be hit in the face, kicked in the nuts and slammed against a wall with a knife to my throat before i realise how i've been so wrong all this while about stuff. there's some sort of lack of a self-correcting mechanism. and that's probably because i'm one of those people who goes through life believing themselves to be the star that the rest of the solar system revolves around. until i meet my own personal copernicus. until my own personal galileo gives me the cosmic finger and reality kicks me in the head. it happens all the time.
Trail
it's winding, this
trail.
shale, young rock shearing easily
broken mountain crunches
under every step.
the sheer drop of the valley
liberating.
give me a year here, i'll grow wings;
jump off and fly like some
featherless falcon.
coniferous forests with a deep
pine fragrance,
pinecones and nettles, leafy
wood floor.
the white wall stretches across the horizon
hard and tall...
i want to bash myself to pieces against it
and then mix up the bits with mountain shale
and spring water, pinecones and dead leaves.
the natural me. ready to be packaged and bottled,
sold to the discerning at a premium.
pure egocide.
...shut up, says the mountain. shut up and climb.
so i do.
it's a challenge, the blankness. it's saying fuck you, you couldn't fill this if you needed to. well fuck that shit, i've got a lot to say.
have you ever walked down the road and blinked and then realised you've suddenly recieved a whole new perspective on things? no? me neither. shit doesn't happen that easily around here. me i've got to be hit in the face, kicked in the nuts and slammed against a wall with a knife to my throat before i realise how i've been so wrong all this while about stuff. there's some sort of lack of a self-correcting mechanism. and that's probably because i'm one of those people who goes through life believing themselves to be the star that the rest of the solar system revolves around. until i meet my own personal copernicus. until my own personal galileo gives me the cosmic finger and reality kicks me in the head. it happens all the time.
Trail
it's winding, this
trail.
shale, young rock shearing easily
broken mountain crunches
under every step.
the sheer drop of the valley
liberating.
give me a year here, i'll grow wings;
jump off and fly like some
featherless falcon.
coniferous forests with a deep
pine fragrance,
pinecones and nettles, leafy
wood floor.
the white wall stretches across the horizon
hard and tall...
i want to bash myself to pieces against it
and then mix up the bits with mountain shale
and spring water, pinecones and dead leaves.
the natural me. ready to be packaged and bottled,
sold to the discerning at a premium.
pure egocide.
...shut up, says the mountain. shut up and climb.
so i do.
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