red eyes and sore limbs and things I've said I'd never do

there are some things that will never change. and there are some things that will.

LQ

just like Columbus. Uh. He get the bloodlust. Uh.

The crushing weight pushing down on your chest. That's what I feel, man. The burning in my lungs trying to keep up. Then your mind only thinks about survival. And ignores those small minor cuts and scrapes.

Wait. My mind?

No. Like the universal you.

Universal me?

Forget it. My mind does those things.

Okay. Sounds bad.

Not actually. At that point, any depression I felt is gone and it's only about survival. Very pure. Like breathing winter air.

Its got what it takes

I sit here in a hot room drinking a hot drink scantly clad and not just physically. Each morning I wake completely susceptible. I go to bed with my biggest and heaviest armor. Dreaming rips those plates off and digs right into my brain surfacing my most personal fears, doubts, insecurities. It draws them out so they can chase me for hours. Probably what I get for blocking it all up. But I have to build those walls each morning over a solid cup of tea and the internet. Most of the time I don't get breakfast. No time. Some things are more important. My ability to function at a near indestructible level and patience in abundance.

I'll become the monster again. I've been side stepping my duties for a while and its time to get back to business. A restart. Back to the basics. The bitterness is seeping in. The new me is backing into a corner where I'll keep him until I need him. I cannot travel time to change the path I've made. But I can start my brain over. And I'll grow some unbelievably tough skin. And I get hit my cars and get up without a scratch.  I'll have a constant rumbling roar in my chest. Just looking to get out.

This gun's for hire. I'll be searching for something new. I'll be looking for sculls to knock together. My shadow will be reaching. It's about time to be the bad guy again. This city will not know how to contain me.

Fuck the crushing weight of existence. Get ready for The crushing existence of me.

LQ

hot boxed and sick stained and ripping out pieces of myself

Oh what you'd never guess. To stand and scream still feel blessed. The darkness seeps from between my teeth. No not some emo fuck crying about the dripping red lines and razor blades. The bitter festering feeling stirring up inside like a dust storm in nevada. I'm talking about the dust bowl. The fight against the inevitable. The soul crushing feeling of sitting anywhere and still feel like you're sinking.

The music doesn't cause it. It illuminates it. Better to see when you fight or think you're fine and allow the ninja stalker to slink up and slit your neck. There's about to be a new sheriff in town. I didn't shoot the last one, but I did the deputy.

The way my hair stands after a night of great sleep. I have burning ambitions about to shoot from my fingers. And I'll never give up. I'll rebuild myself as many times as I have to until it's perfect. Because when the storm ends and I'm still standing and the scars have changed my appearance you'll know me from that first step. It's not confidence. It's something more. It's not to believe, but to know. To have taken that step countless times. A silence. Then a heavy bass note. Because no one should be able to survive what I will. Because my ability to take it is my super power. I've been eroded down to a splinter and have come back. Always stronger.

Just wait for it. I can already hear the winds of the storm dying down. Maybe I have lost that shine in my eye. But I gave it up to weather the storm. And maybe some part of my enjoys it. Not the pain, but the acknowledgement after. 

you're only as good as your grip and I'm covered in ink smearings

Super condensed update:
Moved to Charlotte, NC to get away and find myself
Turns out living alone in a two bedroom duplex is an easy way to loose yourself
Turns out cleaning is harder to do when you don't care
Turns out I sing to myself a lot


So with that, time to dive in.
Dude at work told me:
Do not settle for anything less than what you want. Grab it in both fists. Drag it with you through the shit and out into the light. Even if it's just bones by the time you get there. That's the american way. The freedom to stand up and take what you want. And the perseverance to see it through. Even if it's just an idea. To face life and take the pain. To overcome. To wrestle the fuck out of chaos and punch it in the gut or kick it in its nuts. Even if it kills you. To be able to say I went for what I want. To be able to stand next to the forefathers of this country with your head held high. Because things have changed, but nothing's changed.

Inspired? Does it look like I care, either way? You have no idea. Because you can't see me. Some of you could see me. But not while reading this and definitely not while I write this.

I'm about to adventure into writing again and to build some epic things. More to come.

Just remember: a triangle is the strongest shape.

LQ

Did you say plan? I may need my slightly larger glasses.

Working on a ridiculous short story. Here it is in all it's profanity. Read it in updates.

The Wishing Wang

     It was like a genie living in his pants just waited to be rubbed the right way. At least that's what all the girls thought. In fact that's all they thought. To them there wasn't anything behind the Wishing Wang that mattered. Just some piece of meat they'd ignore as soon as they were finished. 

     His name was Brian Fanguard and he wasn't anything special. He got his first hand job when he was nineteen.   The next day a certain cheating no good ex-boyfriend choked to death on his... while masturbating. Coincidence after coincidence launched him straight into the spotlight. 

     Brian walked home after a long day, both hands in his front pockets and he took longer strides with his right leg. Not even the gym is safe anymore, Brian thought.