Snowflake
2026-10-02
Another influx of coupling thoughts, yet no greater truth to be found in them—how vexed I am, that I continue to write them down anyway.
An opening tag, a few paragraphs, maybe a closing tag if I feel clever enough for it; yet there's no real thing that's on my mind other than the usual sundries. My sister is fighting my mom for a snack right now, and I continue to write through it anyway. That's life on the weekends, baby. Better to have those you love yell than to be alone and tell myself how much of a dastardly, almost irreversibly fucked-up individual I am. Key word: almost. I'm sorry for being such an idiot, Jesus. Maybe if I just keep going, I'll receive what I need. I want nothing more than that, and any other greater desire is inevitably another snare to get my foot trapped in. But in the carnal spaces I find myself seeking pleasure, Your Face shines still, even when I choose not to see it in a small series of passing moments. Second by second, in all everlasting granularity, the plans of the heavens reveal themselves to me, but I choose not to tell people about them—lest I become yet another unreliable oracle who tries to alchemically falsify truth with facts, figures, and stupid SQLite databases.
No, my little Snowflake, just because you know R doesn't make you smart, but don't worry, I'll save the harder Rs for another time.
I've seen too much footage, and yet I'm still here. It would've killed lesser men, but I don't claim to be any better. Even if I contend myself as a vessel for lesser, more corrupt spirits, I still want to do the harder work of keeping them at bay and be a sign not of truth, but of some larger and more inconceivable thing that hasn't been revealed to us yet. No, it's not in the sand, and it's most certainly not in the skies. It's in (You), and all it wants is to love you and take care of you. Let me help you get through the next few moments. Don't read too deeply into things; turn the shit off, lock in on silence, and don't dread what's to come. Plans don't need to make themselves apparent to be executed, and sometimes the best plan is the one where there's no plan at all. Days come, days go—rehearsals for greater journeys that lie ahead, even if they're mundane and sometimes feel unreal. There's joy in the details, but the larger machinations don't need to spend their precious time meddling with us. So don't look where you don't need to; there's nothing there, anyway.
Tag.
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