Mutable notes.

Note 1382
Unavailable and a side effect of nuances please.


Keep pressing on the frailty.

Over the years you become slightly more resilient to damage. You learn to eat the words just to get them out from in front of you. You stick rocks down your throat to keep from regurgitating conversations over and over. You stuff thorns in your ears so that in some possible way you can distract the deafening noise of things broadcasting to you. It consumes every bit of energy that you manifest, devouring every small piece of sense you can piece together until you finally break and fall into the constrictions of being paralyzed.

It’s the dark hole behind a broken door that you don’t even care to find a way back through. It clings on to you so that even when you are out doing your daily numbered bullshit, it constantly reminds you that the vise across your skull will ultimately finish you off. Now, or later.

Not good with today. And it’s not even that much math in it. Which just adds more to the fastening of the wires.

The day fades. And that is just the shittiness that it is.

“You really touch me whenever you feel like it, don’t you?”

“No. I touch you a fraction of when I feel like it.”

– Last Night (2010)

Your mouth is moving.

It’s a flood. It’s suffocating. It doesn’t care how much the words weigh. It sits in the corner of your home and it waits until it can drown out the sounds of the humming fan.  It damages layers at a time. It poisons. It steals the air out of the room. I don’t understand the backwards dialogue that spills out in desperation. Save yourself I suppose.

You won’t win that battle. So find your way to surrender. Give it back. Do something. Repair what is left. I don’t lie. I don’t bend conversations to fit any narrative. I’m guilty of being painfully blunt, and I own that.

It’s a paper-thin veil, and it grows wet with your breath. You chew, you swallow, and it’s gone.


“You are what you do, not what you say you’ll do.” – Carl Jung