The interview was interesting.....okay great. Look. It's like waking up one day to realize your hair has fallen out or you are pregnant with a giant monster inside of you, maybe spiritually, mentally, who knows. At the end of the day you've still got this thrill on your side like the hardest of the porn stars or a guy who just went ten rounds with a grizzly bear, and the bear threw in the towel.
For most of us, it would probably be enough just to have that towel. Some but not all. The way these guys talk they want to get back into the cage with the shark. Poke that bastard in the eye and reach deep in between the jagged rows of death to see what you find in the belly of the beast.
That's different than those old timers sitting around a table in some dark smoky basement telling war stories from their glory days, to be clear, these are war stories... from the most respected guys on the block. And these guys are still packing.
Sure the old embargo hasn't been lifted and the blockade is still being enforced. Who cares? Not me, i don't fly by those controls and i know the difference in being different for the sake of being free in yourself, not going with the flow and following some self anointed leader because, well, that's what most people do.
Sometimes it's life in the form of a great magic pizza, where you started out happy with just a few crumbs. When that wasn't satisfying enough you dug in a little bit deeper for love and acceptance and then worked your way up to power and control. Sooner or later it all comes to pass that you kick the new crumb seekers to the curb to save more for yourself. Such is life. You had saved that last slice intentionally thinking it's the heaven you so desired, but as it always turns out you eat too much and it's going to be hell to pay for you later on when the light is all gone.
It was never really supposed to end this way...or at all?
Time and pain
makes flickering shadows fade
the space between lightning
a quiet hollow soul
full of empty holes
pounding at the heart
beats the blood from the wound
echoes in the distance
from the chorus of ghosts
like sand to the ark
where the footsteps wash away
the wind of oblivion