The perils of unearned peace

Those for whom anything short of everything is agony—they will always be addicted to cobbling flashes of piecemeal complicity to build an ark of delusion in preparation against the looming floods of introspection.

Staving off the misery of reality, moment by manic moment: flaying the day into separate, manageable charades.

Above all, desperately mimicking peace. But the most chaotic thing, always and forever, is the mind which clings to the misty myths of unearned peace.

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