My heart has been reshaped in flames of treachery, bent beneath the hammering blows of alienation. It is now a dark thing of iron resolve and unyielding hatred. Grinding my teeth in contempt… Free will made flesh.
“Contact with anybody
who has produced work of quality
fills me with an air of thwarted yearning empathy,
an implausible sense of fraternity,
a melancholy sting. Regret and resentment
gnawing at me, eating me alive.
This is what you reap
when you haven’t sown anything.”—John Tottenham (via nevver)