Those are our kindred spirits, my love.
We all have our demons.

Hospitals always play a setting.
Be it a waste of your time and money, the sadest day or the happiest. They are always a setting.

The ward is empty excluding the lonely receptionist, who has 2 other hats. One says nurse, the other waitress.

An hour ago I had a conversation with a janitor regarding the state of the hurricane. She believes a game can be one in 7 innings and was exponentially puzzled by why they wouldn’t call it. She hates game delays. Some people don’t like closure. Those people play monopoly.

Green mountain coffee is deplorable. It’s weak and tastes lousy and smells repugnant. Luckily all the food is made to order, which given the huge delay makes it worth while.

Sometimes drugs don’t work.

Dance moms probably have a reserved parking spot on a lower level of hell.

In another hour Mirabello will be here. He’s renowned. We will know when this is over.

The power is on borrowed time. There are blackouts up ad down the coast. Irene is a moms name.

Its ironic. This all happened because of me. I can’t help but feel responsible.

Damn… Almost liked losing all that sleep.

Assassins Creed is the worst fucking video game I have ever played.

I need to finish it.

Staring blackly at a screen becomes monotonous. The burden to create anything; a chore worthy of prizes beyond ones wildest imagination. One of my oldest friends birthdays is this weekend. His mother would be so proud. I can almost hear the words she’d say to him. The meal she would work all day on. The lavish gifts she would acquire. All out of the vast love she had. Begin to remember the crime that happened. The taking of such a beautiful person.

Friends rally.

Ships always inspired me. I should say that a ships behavior always inspired me; and furthermore should say that in light of the behavior of a ship it is, in fact, the ocean that inspires me. 

There are times in which one is clearly required to steer. Any captain with half a sense of self preservation surely shutters at the notion of being thrown to the rocks. Adversely, it is important to understand when your efforts are fruitless. Sometimes the best discourse is to not navigate and simply weather the storm. Rather than battling mercilessly in a fight you are predestined to loose, sometimes one should hang their coat, retire their garb, bid sobriety farewell, and contine sailing tomorrow.      

They don’t send you letters,

They don’t telephone you.

They don’t send you letters,

But your waiting for them.

You write him. Yeah. 

I created this.

This dark monster of a storm, black as night, spinning violently against the sky.

I started this storm.

The very storm that consumes everyone and anyone in its path. Disregarding feelings of claimed “love ones” and obeying only its true nature; to spin and whirl with such force and vigor that all unfortunate enough to so much as be approached by it are rendered lifeless. Instantly.

And the storm doesn’t care.

The storm doesn’t give a shit.

But how can one speak to the consciousness of a storm?
A storm is concerned with only being a storm.

But it wasn’t when I made it…

I’ve seen this beast before.
A perfect reconstruction of things gone wrong. I was foolish enough to think I could conquer a past were things didn’t last and wound up with a future more uncertain than the last.

Lord, I was wrong.

This storm consumed my best friend and if I’m not careful it’s gonna kill me too.

I’m on a rooftop overlooking everything. The skyline turned dark across the city from the enormous shadow cast by the beast heading towards me. No one is left. No one is alive. I’m the sole survivor and alone to try and stop it.

As a funnel begins to touch down I begin to run. Leaping rooftops with agility I’ve never known of myself.

This storm is chasing me. This storm seeks to destroy me. It wants me dead.
I begin to loose hope, but suddenly I’m told of a solution. It comes to me as if by some divine intervention.

I know the location of the answer.

I break into a stairwell as building I was on previously are collapsing around me. I run, if not more fall, down 6 flights of stairs where I find the answer…

My ace in the hole.

Hide the truth with an ambiguous metaphor.