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Nobody’s all-the-way dead yet, but let’s just say the clock is ticking.
Him yelling, Give me lust, baby. Flash. Give me malice. Flash. Give me detached existentialist ennui. Flash. Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism. Flash.
hundred generations removed from anything original, but the truth is aren’t we all?
no matter how much you think you love somebody, you’ll step back when the pool of their blood edges up too close.
“Save me a window table in hell!”
This is the world we live in. Conditions change and we mutate.
There’s that fallen heart feeling that you rushed right through the moments where you should’ve been paying attention. Well, get used to that feeling. That’s how your whole life will feel some day.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all? The evil queen was stupid to play Snow White’s game. There’s an age where a woman has to move on to another kind of power. Money, for example. Or a gun.
Besides, it happens fast for some people and slow for some, accidents or gravity, but we all end up mutilated.
but hysteria is impossible without an audience. Panicking by yourself is the same as laughing alone in an empty room. You feel really silly.
And sometimes being mutilated can work to your advantage. All those people now with piercings and tattoos and brandings and scarification…What I mean is, attention is attention.
“Your perception is all fucked up,” Brandy says. “All you can talk about is trash that’s already happened.” She says, “You can’t base your life on the past or the present.” Brandy says, “You have to tell me about your future.”
“When you understand,” Brandy says, “that what you’re telling is just a story. It isn’t happening anymore. When you realize the story you’re telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan,” Brandy says, “then we’ll figure out who you’re going to be.”
You can say anything if enough people will listen.
“And if you believe that we really have free will, then you know that God can’t really control us,” Seth says. Seth’s hands are off the steering wheel and flutter around to make his point. “And since God can’t control us,” he says, “all God does is watch and change channels when He gets bored.”
Most times, it’s just a lot easier not to let the world know what’s wrong.
Besides, hysteria is only possible with an audience.
Only when we eat up this planet will God give us another. We’ll be remembered more for what we destroy than what we create.
Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I’ve ever known.
We Have Not Been Properly Introduced.
The one I love is already gone out to warm up the car. The one who will love me forever says, “Sleep tight,” and closes the door behind her.
All these thousands of miles later, all these different people I’ve been, and it’s still the same story. Why is it you feel like a dope if you laugh alone, but that’s usually how you end up crying? How is it you can keep mutating and still be the same deadly virus?
