Whiplash

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If you want, we could grab some pizza, or maybe fly around the sun. It’s up to you. Those we have no need for, they busy themselves attending poor quality music festivals and dancing in clubs while drinking heavily to escape how terribly insignificant their lives are. Whenever I drink, it’s because I’m trying to somehow tap into the magic that seemed to be in abundance when I was a kid but of which is now so hard to find. Maybe we could strip naked and hunt for fossils on a beach, or climb trees and smear our bodies with mud so as to be in tune with our primal hearts. Perhaps, if you’re willing, we could pick flowers and make daisy chains as the sun shines down and shapes us into flames that symbolise the passion we hide inside. It’s unclear to me as to where this all started. Was it really the end of a relationship, or was it when it became apparent there was nothing else I was ever good at? Is my drive to make it because I’m trying to leave part of myself behind, or because I want someone to see me for how I am and love what they find? In a jazz bar where butterflies make love on the teeth of heavenly pianos, the waitress serves me a beer and slips me her number. The music gets into my bones; it picks away until there’s little left save for the sweat that’s trickling down my forehead tasting so salty as it hits my tongue. The waitress is bruised, and as she smiles, it reminds me of why we fall in love with certain people. Perhaps it’s merely looks, or maybe a slotting together of personalities? There has to be more to it than that, though. There’s a reason for everything, and even if we don’t understand it, the reason remains. We can be like the rest, or we can make a stand and do something else. Love and creation; they’re never far apart, and although they can become enemies, underneath it all, they’re inches away from tearing their clothes off and fucking until there’s nothing left. It has to be like this; there’s no other choice. We live, or we die- it’s up to you. So let’s eat pizza and talk about what the rest would rather not say. Let’s do it the right way.

2 replies »

  1. Great, now I want pizza.
    I miss the simplicity of childhood, but watching my son experience it, in a way allows me to re-live it again. It’s different, but beautiful just the same.
    Thank you for posting your perspective, it’s always unique and original.

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