We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heros or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are.
Letting our past decide our future.
Or we can decide for ourselves.
And maybe it's our job to invent something better.
. . .
It's creepy, but here we are, the Pilgrims, the crackpots of our time, trying to establish our own alternate reality. To build a world out of rocks and chaos.
What it's going to be, I don't know.
Even after all that rushing around, where we've ended up is the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.
And maybe not knowing isn't the point.
Where we're standing right now, in the ruins in the dark, what we build could be anything.
- Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
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- goldmourn (
amberdawnpullin) wrote,
goldmourn
what we build could be anything.
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poems: 30 May 2019
wolf heart I can’t with your doubt of me. Oh but you will always be a howl in my heart. - adp, 30 May 2019 @ 9:30am explanation Yes,…
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(poem) april 3rd/4th, 2019
wanting wanting no i don't know what i'm doing but i could if we got that far if we made it there if you let me breathe for one moment before…
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(poem) april 2nd, 2019
shit talking thought of a poem in the washroom but I don't write in there so words are lost to air with the smoke of lit matches dirty thoughts…
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