When I started writing this book, I didn't really have much of a leg to stand on. My writing prowess scarcely provides enough style to the substance on these pages and I don't particularly like staring at a whole lot of nothing all day. So here is what I am going to do. I am going to make shotguns out of my stanzas, scopes out of my sentences, and shells out of the syllables of my words. My work will be a hollow-point opera and just maybe you will see my face in the concrete chalk.
I want it to be so much more than that, though. I want people to give up when they read this work. I want my pen to etch a hole in the sun and leave a void so hollow that even the skeptics won't wonder why. I want to stop asking questions and start murdering answers. I want the fucked up labyrinth that is my mind to mark the spot where I die. I want the prophecy of my words to bear fruit and finally kill me.
But sometimes... wanting is just not enough.
I want it to be so much more than that, though. I want people to give up when they read this work. I want my pen to etch a hole in the sun and leave a void so hollow that even the skeptics won't wonder why. I want to stop asking questions and start murdering answers. I want the fucked up labyrinth that is my mind to mark the spot where I die. I want the prophecy of my words to bear fruit and finally kill me.
But sometimes... wanting is just not enough.
