Those were the words the voices in my head told me had come from Howard, a neo-Nazi.
They keep saying you don’t want to be American.
They keep talking about divorce. Or at least in this moment they were.
They say you have nothing to say to me, or you don’t know what to say.
Honestly I don’t even know why that transmission was so fucking clear, it was coming right out of my phone as I was going through the memes my friends had sent me throughout the day.
Regardless, they say you don’t want to be in America/Boston because you’d be “turned all the way up.”
In all these situations the only weapon, the only option I seem to have is these words.
Writing writing and more writing.
To clear my head.
Because this barely inspires any art I would like to make.
edit:
There’s a voice outside my window trying to convince me that it’s you… why would you be so close and so far away?
You have every avenue to reach me and you choose to be in this city and ignore me or run away from me at every turn?
If that is you, which I doubt, then you don’t want to be with me.
Be with whomever your heart desires.
Do what your heart desires.
I just want what’s best for you.
And a dialogue, obviously.