Don’t fall in love. Fall in love. Give up smoking then light a cigarette while standing on a balcony looking out at the end of the world. The death of everyone is so pretty. It soothes our bastard hearts and gives us the strength to carry on. It makes us laugh when we’re all out of money and reasons to keep the fire. Time. Nothing but time, and beer farts that drown the world in their gratuitous stink. Working-class dreams that flicker long into the night while billions toss and turn trying to escape because this thing ain’t working at all. Ain’t it so funny. Just one long ride into the heart of oblivion. One spiralling descent into those infinite mundane days where we organise ourselves accordingly into social gatherings and work and dentist appointments followed by coffee catch-ups where the discussion tickles the surface but never goes any deeper. Maybe a shower when you get home? Maybe a bath and tepid masturbation thinking about someone or other? And then TV and selfies and bills and holidays and illness and the same hopes and fears that cripple each and every other little fucker looking for a way out. There’s a change coming I just know it. There’s a door that’s slowly opening each time I close my eyes. Won’t be long now. Can’t be. You’re so pretty but flesh fades so grab a blade and tarnish that husk of yours. You’re a bird on a wire singing your songs but what’s the point of flying when you don’t seek to make a change? You can drift around leading a life so familiar and known, or you can find that door and step through it. You can look the part and pout like they want you to, or you can move outside the lines. Won’t be long now. Won’t be long at all. Find that door and bow down to the magic beyond. From the rivers to the seas, swim through the shit and get your kicks from not quitting. Howl like a madman as the acceptance you once sought becomes the very thing you wish to destroy above all else. Revel in your confusion, kid, and never doubt the visions that populate your skull.