Prose and musing by Sam I am.
Writer of cyberpunk, dystopian fiction, and nonfiction. Plus whatever drives me at the time.
You insult me in my own home one last time, and you will see what happens
We suffocate everything we love, but it’s not love is it?
Not what you want?
No is only the beginning of the question.
And we can’t cope with the consequences and so we keep drinking. Drinking and drinking and blotting out what is staring us straight in the face. You. And still, we will forget. Or chose to ignore.
To point out the rooster in the room is considered a sin.
And so, we walk past the man in the streets who could really do with a hand. Because we’ve got our own shit to deal with, but still.
Breaking the habit of being is not a remedy for it.
