(break in the sway)

My brain is holden's last regret. the body that fell through the rye into nothing. out of sight. out of mind. out of line with the american epics that defined so many generations of young men determined to find their madness and make it beautiful.

If only for a season...

I am determined, tonight, to hold onto the notion of triumph. to the radical successes and sublime fucking failures of living a life with only overt complacency (i don't mean it. i don't need it. but i'll maintain whatever facade is necessary to ensure that this snarling scrap will, one time, seize his day).

Because if my coming years are spent living the idea that everything is just fine. if i can sleep every night comfortably. if i can rest through the daylight assured of the fact that everything will be the goddamn fucking same i might as well surrend my heart right now.

And, yeah, i forget sometimes. and i love my safety.

But my love should trascend the comforts of my living. my love should fucking steal me. it should burn my burn my travels clean.

It should, above all else, inspire me.

Hence, my pic.

All i can hope is that, in some way, she'll realize she feels the same.