Intoxication is no escape. None.
The storm blowing over the curling horizon gives no mind to your state of mind. It comes to obliterate, to subdue, to enslave.
It is man and machine and fire and evil and emotionless.
Pour out your addiction. Let the ground drink its spirits.
Stand. Plant your feet. Lean into the biting headwind. Take aim. Fire. Fire again. Again. Look into the soulless black of wild eyes. Aim for the slim bridge of skin between them. Breath. Take aim. Fire. Again.
The spinning world has witnessed billions who’ve come before. Billions more will come after. Those teeming billions will never know of your struggles, your tortured life before this moment. None will thank you for this moment.
Take aim. Fire. Inevitable is only time. Step forward, into the storm. Take aim.
The storm, it blinks. It hesitates. It considers its inevitability. It falters, hesitates. Fire.
The billions behind, those in your shadow, your wake, and those destined in the generations unrealized will follow. Step forward. Leave addiction, the fear that is intoxication, in those footprints.
The relentless storm rises, hovers, curls and caresses. You’ll bleed, suffer, eventually die.
But. Only time is inevitable. Death is timeless. Stand. Step forward.
iPhone Notes Story
LAS – TUL. 02.11.16