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I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Sensations
Pleasant
Lips
Feel
Feels
Tugging
Upward
Unfamiliar
Sensation

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We are where we are, however we got here. What matters is where we go next.
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It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.
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Music? Music is life! It’s physical emotion - you can touch it! It’s neon ecto-energy sucked out of spirits and switched into sound waves for your ears to swallow. Are you telling me, what, that it’s boring? You don’t have time for it?
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Once you've arrived at the end of the world, it hardly matters which route you took.
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I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.
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It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.
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I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?
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I can no longer believe in any voodoo spell or laboratory virus. This is something deeper, darker. This comes from the cosmos, from the stars, or the unknown blackness behind them. The shadows in God's boarded-up basement.
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When the entire world is built on death and horror, when existence is a constant state of panic, it's hard to get worked up about any one thing. Specific fears have become irrelevant. We've replace them with a smothering blanket far worse.
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I'm watching her talk. Watching her jaw move and collecting her words one by one as they spill from her lips. I don't deserve them. Her warm memories. I'd like to paint them over the bare plaster walls of my soul, but everything I paint seems to peel.
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