Eyes Dried Open

"This brief dispatch comes to you after a 24 hour shift at a desk, watching my hair grow and thinking about all the things I could have been doing instead. Like painting a shitty picture in a park that wouldn't resemble anything other than a truck-stop bathroom stall. The splatters, I mean.

As far as that incident, I haven't heard anything new, probably never really will. Guess it didn't happen in our neck of the woods. But fuck, man. Death? I still try to wrap my mind around it sometimes. Spent a good portion of the last 24 hours thinking about what it must've felt like for my friends, when they got hit. Did they even know what hit them, or was it some instant confusion, blurry and discombobulated?"
The Unlikely Soldier