diaboli virtus in lumbis est

Past 2am the sadness numbs the pads of my fingers. Numbs the ends of my tongue. Nerve endings realize a new found sensation and behave as though they will never burn away. Past 2am the sadness greets me though it never left, and tricks the body into believing it unconquerable. The rhythm I needed to move with the sadness was heavy in bass and gentle in melody, like a thundering rapid charging toward the rocky cliffs of an approaching falls.

Don’t treat people’s souls as pet projects, don’t disappear when you realize you won’t get a chance to parade yourself around as the one who ‘fixed’ someone .. You’ve no right to treat other’s pain as a means to your own self inflated end.