(no subject)
Fear, like so many other things, envelops all of us within its tepid, unwavering grasp
Insecurity rises from the nebulous ashen mist gathered about our feet to greet us, and to intermingle with our souls
Aggregately, we wrap up our fears and insecurities into a hodgepodge assortment of failings, and deposit them on a million doorsteps a day. They are the unwanted bastard children and are thrust upon us, and the hazy grey series of slippery slopes are all that we have to act as our moral compass
Clockwork, routine instances of sublime and nefarious setbacks become one with us, and we never really know where they end, and where we begin
I pitch deep within the candied crevices of moral ambiguity
My righteous indignation with all the injustices of the world is all that I have to keep me company on this wretched and reckless happenstance journey
I climb to the top, securing for myself a more desirable vantage point, and I review with perfect clarity everything in life that I have destroyed
Crushing, crashing, burning. The tepid mass of pecaddilos are yanked from the womb prematurely, and they fester and boil until they become much more than the sum total of all of their parts.
Left to their own devices, they are not fit to remain extant. They have neither the tools nor the resources to claw and grasp their way into our livelihoods. But we are drawn to them. Pain is interesting. Pain helps us realize that we are truly alive. We gather the things that ail us, we nurture them, and we blow into them our life-giving breath.
Take this all of you and eat it. This is my body, which will be given up for you and your sins. Do this in memory of me.
Insecurity rises from the nebulous ashen mist gathered about our feet to greet us, and to intermingle with our souls
Aggregately, we wrap up our fears and insecurities into a hodgepodge assortment of failings, and deposit them on a million doorsteps a day. They are the unwanted bastard children and are thrust upon us, and the hazy grey series of slippery slopes are all that we have to act as our moral compass
Clockwork, routine instances of sublime and nefarious setbacks become one with us, and we never really know where they end, and where we begin
I pitch deep within the candied crevices of moral ambiguity
My righteous indignation with all the injustices of the world is all that I have to keep me company on this wretched and reckless happenstance journey
I climb to the top, securing for myself a more desirable vantage point, and I review with perfect clarity everything in life that I have destroyed
Crushing, crashing, burning. The tepid mass of pecaddilos are yanked from the womb prematurely, and they fester and boil until they become much more than the sum total of all of their parts.
Left to their own devices, they are not fit to remain extant. They have neither the tools nor the resources to claw and grasp their way into our livelihoods. But we are drawn to them. Pain is interesting. Pain helps us realize that we are truly alive. We gather the things that ail us, we nurture them, and we blow into them our life-giving breath.
Take this all of you and eat it. This is my body, which will be given up for you and your sins. Do this in memory of me.