starting and stopping in fits as he drifts —also editing along the way. always. is he the only one to ever feel(?) what it means to be alive? he dies into summer showers, into nighttime hours, into songs written across your face.
Gunmetal ink clouds Obscure silver shimmering refractions of moon.
The Guardian summarizes the conflicted, straining mind by way of an interesting allegory.
Live without thoughts, that's an interesting notion (the thought says almost simultaneously) arresting me in another galaxy. The karma on that shit arrives instantly, i know cause i watch it taking place; the future is forming all around me. There’s no subtext here; i mean what i say. How's that for a moment of clarity. [...]
My life All of my life I've been runnin' From thoughts (from you) My life All of my life I've been runnin' from truths runnin' from myself. Why does it feel like the weight of this world is pressin' down on me, the whole of the collective unconscious, steppin' down right on me. [...]