Celebrating personal discordia and spiritual anarchy.

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"Anarchy is not intended to be sustainable. It is not a system of government, a codified list of rules and beliefs, or a mind set geared toward cultural constructivism. It is a spark, a flash, a small flame that ignites a paradigm-obliterating explosion. It is destructive by nature. It lies dormant and, like diesel fuel, can only be ignited by tremendous pressure. It deconstructs. It strips flesh from bone and grinds bone to dust. It is doomed to consumption in the conflagration instigated by its own primal spark. It is a catalyst. It is tinder. It is powder and fuse."

Rich Oliver


Golly Gee.

A pause, a break, a lull in the lifelong conversation, time and space to breathe apart without the constant interchange of emotion and messages through the heavy air. Introspection. Silence. Waiting for the vibrations to silence themselves between. Thinking. Wondering. Hoping. Praying. Was it real, or sensory overload? Sounds and light bouncing to and from, reverberating from flesh to flesh.

It was real. I felt. I suppressed a giggle. Feeling without words the finer interchange of spirit and heart. It is there. Still. Strong. Piercing in the polite staccato of your voice. In your eyes. In the posture of your neck. I feel anew.

I missed your face.