be violent. be a blue room. be a bigger blue room. be something like a supernova or a black hole. i’m sorry, i’ll give you a break. pull to the shoulder and have a rest. there’s all the time in the world, except we’re nearing the end. the end of what? the end of this cup of coffee, the end of this afternoon, the end of the thick rope that dragged us this far. there’s all the time in the world. of course there is, we know this. but we’re nearing the end. twenty minutes until the end. just enough time for a rest on the ugliest road we’ve ever seen, and just enough time to stitch it all together afterward. we have knots to tie, ripples in reality to iron out, bread to pull out of the oven, bones to dig up and bodies to bury. we’re twenty minutes to the end and we have a laundry list of loose ends. be voilent, get it done. be a blue room, get it done. burn the room with everyone inside, get it done. we have all the time in the world which apparently isn’t very much. someone used half of it dying to be kissed, and someone else used the other half being scared of the dark. we won’t let them get away with this. we’ll burn them first, even if they end up being you and i — siamese twins like atom bombs. pull to the shoulder, you need your energy. pull to the shoulder, it’s as much an end as anything else is.