(no subject)
Crawling out, discarding sour-smelling garments of the part, readying for the fight to come.
Talk of tarts, lugging mats around an outlaw's outcrop, becoming fascists because it's funny.
Trying to push forward as I should and struggle with strength, shredding but not breaking myself. Not breaking too much.
Old faces crop up in caves, across a valley flooded with sun, the wind stings, meeting new friends, fighting the fear of replacement, remembering the only way out of hell is to walk on into the dark, and to avoid a salty fate: never look back.
Talk of tarts, lugging mats around an outlaw's outcrop, becoming fascists because it's funny.
Trying to push forward as I should and struggle with strength, shredding but not breaking myself. Not breaking too much.
Old faces crop up in caves, across a valley flooded with sun, the wind stings, meeting new friends, fighting the fear of replacement, remembering the only way out of hell is to walk on into the dark, and to avoid a salty fate: never look back.