occasionally

occasionally i wanna drive a knife into the heart of the world

i'm sorry, but i do.

i know i never will and for a billion reasons i would never want to just as much as you might never want to, but there's this monster lurking around inside of me that sneaks up into my head sometimes. what does it mean and why is it there?

i dunno, but if i write about it it helps. and you're not supposed to write about stuff like this, but i look inside and that's there, and that's what i wanna get out.

i don't wanna labor over some gorgeous memory or get caught scouring my mind for minutiae and deleted scenes from the arthouse flop "My Memory: The Stylized Interpretation of My Life as I Feel Like Remembering Out Loud to You"

i wanna write about that monster.

look how embarrassed he is for wanting to drive a knife into the world. he talked a big game a couple seconds ago but now that the world is looking him in the eye he's not so brave.