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The Dime
It's not that I'm better than this. It's that I want to be better than this. I want the whole of my mind to open its gaping maw and eat the world. I want to ascend, eldritch and ecstatic, into the waiting stars. I want to burn and leave sweet scars, the kind that people fondly touch whenever they think of the stories that will forever haunt them.

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Last night at some point I was composing in four part drums. That is a wholly new thing that my brain has never done before. I'm not sure if it'll ever come back again.

It will. But it will never be a lucid thing - you'll only catch it at the edge of waking. One is your blood, and one is your grief. The third is your footsteps, and the last is the echo between you and the moon.

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