Disappear Here

At first I was confused by what passed for love in this world: people were discarded because they were too old or too fat or too poor or they had too much hair or not enough, they were wrinkled, they had no muscles, no definition, no tone, they weren’t hip, they weren’t remotely famous. This was how you chose lovers. This was what decided friends. And I had to accept this if I wanted to get anywhere…. On the verge of tears — because I was dealing with the fact that we lived in a world where beauty was considered an accomplishment — I turned away and made a promise to myself: to be harder, to not care, to be cool.

Most people think you only get one grave. This is not true. The spaces you inhabit, the territory you belong to, the town of your birth – it’s all coated in miniature graves, dappling every surface as you blow through town; a residue of metallic vagabond hail.

The world was made for the dead. Think of all the dead there are…There’s a million times more dead than living and the dead are dead a million times longer than the living are alive…