Manifesto
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Take me by the hand, and show me something else. Lead me away from the mundane. Let me turn my back on the masses, and be free from their clutches. Don’t talk to me about love. Love is cheap and second hand. It’s a chemical reaction, and we cling to it with blind obedience. Read more
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The trick is to stay angry. Contentment will be the death of you. Always want more. Strive for what’s out of reach. Be hungry for all they say is not within your grasp. It’s so easy to become stationary. To become pale beneath a godless sun. The worst thing is to lose sight of yourself. Read more
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If you stop dreaming then you’re as good as dead. All the useless ones with their heads buried in fickle currency. Whatever you do, don’t become like them. When you lose grip on the madness, you fade away. Only bones covered in pretend flesh are left. Condemned to be a brick in a wall taller Read more
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Sometimes, all a man has is the ability to make a woman sad. There’s something in seeing the tears roll down her face that makes us feel some sense of worth. Maybe it’s control, or we’re just impotent in love and compassion. Monsters, aren’t we all. So dumb and numb, we attack beauty in an attempt Read more
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These nights bring nothing but stillness. Stillness in the leaves, and stillness drifting with the breeze. They ache of loneliness, yet their beauty is glorious. Soft like bedsheets and sand. Numb and confused. Floating through time and memory. My clothes slipping from my tired body, the haze of autumn days calls to me through the Read more
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Words as bullets, pumped straight into the guts of all those paled faced doubters. Fistfuls of creation, shoved into the mouths of all those who dare not dream. Am I stacker of shelves for Walmart, or am I a dreamer of fantastic thoughts, running through the streets of Berlin with my bearded face turned Read more
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I’ve been working on the novel again for just over a week now. And with every passing day, I feel more and more alive. Every time I sense the doubt creeping back in, I tell myself that I can give it up if I want. That I can look for a cushy 9-5 job Read more
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they write books that say nothing they paint pictures to sell on biscuit tins and rugs all these artists with no voices no ideas worth repeating at all if you’re going to speak speak the truth even if it means derison and abandonment who wants to be part of their useless generation anyway? Read more
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I’ve only been working on the novel a few days, but already I’m possessed. The energy and passion are back with me like they were all those years ago. All doubt is removed. No, not just removed, but obliterated. I feel as though I can walk through walls, as if the boundaries that were once Read more
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I started writing my novel five years ago, but truth be told, my heart wasn’t in it for the last three. Whenever I sat down to write, it was the last thing I wanted to do. There was no belief. No passion or desire in what I was doing. And when that happens, you might Read more
