Sublime

We are still permanently trapped somewhere between the heroic and the pitiful. We are still godly; that’s what makes us so monstrous.

The Gods are all here. Because the gods are in us.

Millions of characters, each with their own epic narratives singing it’s hard to be an angel until you’ve been a demon.

accustomed to a life of burden as our appetite for liberation wanes.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by payment plans

All men are weaklings, all women are whores. And they will have their power, two starving mouths desperate to devour, to digest the flesh of the city that raised them so sour, a hunger for vengeance that never sleeps but endures. A hunger satisfied every night but every morning restored. In the old days they would have been warriors swords singing

It was like she’d reconnected with a strength she had forgotten she possessed. Her heart beat like wings in her chest.

the gods are at the rave – two pills deep into dancing –

Hers is a heaviness that soothes.