(granite guignol)

In humble search of...


My brain is a twist of blood and chrome left on the highway by the last vagabond to creep out of the sunset and into the heartbeat of american air where the roads lead home no matter where the ghost.

So long as there's always the chase.

I need to find a superhero. a stupid kid. a fractured idol that can rise above the rabble of contemporary civilization and rain hope upon the hovering swarms of youth who forgot what it is to believe in something fantastic.

We're not talking comic book aping here and i could give a shit about the greeks tonight (though if anything, they knew how to weave their fucking mythologies right). no. what i want is a child of today. a postmodern lunatic with no grips on attention or a path for tomorrow with everything but the crack in his mind working against him. battered down by his contemporaries. ignored by his closest peers. left to his own devices miles away from his last notable influence.

Someone whose rising is a crime. whose desparate attempts to save the world read like burgeoning psychosis rather than one gloriously confused shot at redemption. i want him to kill. i want him to maim. i want him to tear the heart out of his nemesis with a hook and a nail torn out from his closet in a frenzy to escape the little voice created to help him in becoming.

Not because he wants the bastards to suffer (though lord knows they fucking should) but to spill blood for the justified. for the millions whose voices are drowned out in illusions of the great marketing frenzy that is the west (and the world) these days.

The new hero, the antihero.

The bruised boy of this tortured bosom we've all nesteld in so nicely.

Break the niche. fuck the mold. burn it all.