things hurt. all the moving parts are alive and screaming. so many unused muscles pulled back, away. trying to unlearn all the lies habit tells you. doing things over and over is a sort of lie to the flesh. like living is a lie to the symbolic mind. habit is a lie to your bones and heart. there is no loss. there is no fucking loss, only change. nothing’s lost because nothing’s had. you can only have what’s outside of you and there is no outside of you. tricks of slippery rotting minds. my bed is empty. my emotions think their real. i’m looking for a tiny death to free me from all this aching. it’s time to liberate the mind from it’s warm comfortable lies.
