Two men whisper on the back roads,
\nshoulders hunched;
\ntheir collars are up around their necks
\nand their dogs drawn in on a short leash.
\nIn the frigid dawn their breath
\ndraws clouds against the gray horizon.<\/p>\n
Their eyes scan the trees,
\nabove the hills,
\nand they are wary.
\nTheir dogs are restless
\nand completely silent.<\/p>\n
—-<\/p>\n
Did you ever hear that Postal Service song? How did it go? Right.<\/p>\n
I want so badly to believe that “there is truth, that love is real” When I think of “the fear”, I think of this and I think of “fear and loathing in las vegas”, not the title but a line from the movie, damned if I can remember it.<\/p>\n When I think of the fear. No, when I get the fear, like I can feel creeping up sometimes still, like today, my eyes feel too far back in my head. My pant legs feel too short and my shoes ridiculous. All these things that I want to do, but none of them energize me. The thought of these actions inexplicibly turns from exciting to draining, and I’d just like to lay down and sleep for a long, long time.<\/p>\n I make poor decisions when I get the fear. I quit dancing. I stay in more often than not. I start to judge the world, and worse, myself, with a scale that nothing can stand up to.<\/p>\n Indécise<\/em> – Coralie Clément<\/p>\n Peut-être oui, peut-être non Sometimes I know where the fear comes from, and why it comes, and what it wants. Sometimes it’s so simple.<\/p>\n Today, the fear is a fucking ninja. It’s sneaky and black and pointy, but I’ve seen its traces. Fuck you, the fear. Come back some other day.<\/p>\n Today. Today I don’t want you.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Two men whisper on the back roads, shoulders hunched; their collars are up around their necks and their dogs drawn in on a short leash. In the frigid dawn their breath draws clouds against the gray horizon. Their eyes scan the trees, above the hills, and they are wary. Their dogs are restless and completely […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,17,19],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/323"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=323"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/323\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=323"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=323"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.ahniwa.com\/old\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=323"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nAnd I want life in every word to the extent that it’s absurd
\nI know you’re wise beyond your years, but do you ever get the fear
\nThat your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?<\/em><\/p>\n
\nCa m’est égal de toute façon
\nÀ gauche, à droite, ça, je n’sais pas
\nDe haut en bas, oui, pourquoi pas
\nUn jour où l’autre, on verra bien.
\nToujours remettre au lendemain
\nCe que je peux faire ce matin
\nJe ne sais pas me prendre en main…<\/em><\/p>\n