X Marks The Spot
It’s been a gaddamned thrill, rebuilding my presence on X. So much information to take in, some of it even factual. So much interaction – some of it actually rewarding. But, most-importantly, I’ve rediscovered an outlet for all the crap on my mind, one that isn’t altogether so different from that on which it’s based.
Pain And Espionage
“I’m no killer!” I screamed. But we’re all killers. Each and every one of us. We were born to die and it was always our responsibility to die and if any of us failed to follow it through, the next guy would let the clown have it. I’ve actually not been alive since Warrenton and even then, who’s to say.
Echo Chamber
She wasn’t into the theories I espoused that warned of shit like coup d’état’s and jackboots and bonfires where her books used to be. Unlike me, she wasn’t seeing swastikas everywhere she looked and freight cars being marshaled strategically across the country. She didn’t like him, didn’t much care to listen to him. But was it really as bad as all this? And wasn’t I really only being paranoid and a bit melodramatic?