#throwingbricks

I would love if those who beg of me not to build walls, would stop handing me bricks. 

Because I’m already overwhelmed with the wagon-load behind me, and I certainly don’t need additional building materials or provision; nor, do I need assistance in construction. 

Not to brag, but I am gifted at crafting citadels that scale the skies, a physical fortitude through which the elected may cross.

And if I’m being honest, just as a rule of thumb, you yelling at me from the other side of the wall, as you toss over bricks seems inefficient, ya know? 

Allow me to offer an alternative course of action: stay. Breathe. And keep staying. Stay when it’s no longer sweet. Stay, even when the stench of remaining is unbearable. Even then, stay. Stay when the brick you’ve taken out thirteen times, manages to find it’s way back into the row. Stay because you don’t know why it was returned to it’s place in the barricade. Stay when they’re drowning and you’re drowning and we’re all screaming and shit is on fire and everything is an uproarious disaster and we’re all descending into this sinkhole of insanity. 

Even then, stay. 

It totally isn't my birthday, but thank you for reminding me that I have one. Probably would have forgotten this year.

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