Silence
They just dry up sometimes, not like the times when it feels like all the words have got stuck in the tube trying to get out. Thats a different thing all to together, linguistic constipation, the worst thing is the worry over where and when there will be a movement. Theres is no where safe to really talk about the details, the issues can be dissucsed, the conditions the encourage it but the actual names, places, acts, timeframes all exist in another world, in a different language that no one can remember how to speak. But this isn't that, this has a silence to it that is closer to tranquility than suspense. Then theres the constant cycle of shock, denial over a strange but familiar feeling, 'fuck am i bored?'. I have been writing on here for over a year now, so many memories that dragged me under so effectivily for so long have an new layer to them. I wrote about them on here, they are not weighing on my shoulders like they used to. I am so much more than the sum of violence and will.
