I want a fiction that will blow the walls off of this fucking reality. I want a H-bomb in the livingroom, napalm in the streets of this boring suburban nine-to-five, and just for once to breathe in the morning air.
I want an escape from things- a grand exit with the stereo blasting and the cacophony sounding out our destruction of predictable life. I want to feel the dust of our brashest deeds, shake it from my coat and walk the f*ck away from it all while the cinders smolder in our past malice.
I want raucous laughter, manic glee and camaraderie in the endgame....
I won't get these things, not now at least, because tonight the words have run dry. Some time other than now I will be able to detail the words for this experience, or they will be lost. I am in no hurry to find them.
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