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"Life is supposed to be difficult," he said taking a long swig for his ornate hip flask, "It’s the struggle against the infinite violence of a universe.” I smiled, perhaps he was right or perhaps he was just an asshole making it up as he went along, but the gravity of his remark struck me unexpectedly. The default to life was indeed struggle, for all life not just intelligent life; why would I be exempt. I didn’t care for the man and his insidious gloat of pomposity. Nothing is absolute, nothing certain, which makes the possibilities boundless. The joy of life is making it from one moment to the next through adversity and earning the things the things people say about you when you arrive at your freshly dug grave carried by those you hold dearest.

Monday, 2 November 2015

The Great and Terrible ...

In that moment the special type of lunacy grips us. The type that abandons morality and reason and pours red wine on white carpets or climbs through broken windows and knocks down doors.

Senseless heart beating love, crushing lips together and setting the flesh aflame, like broadly beasts in the hard wet jungle rain.

Tearing cloth, there it is the nakedness we seek. The bold lies fall away and light descends into the darkest of folds.

“I like you like this. Now let me take you apart and put you together in my dreams and never see another soul.” 

And that is what love is, true madness, a great and terrible insanity that will begin and end us all.    

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