Life is a pause before death

I live to destroy time. I don't want to live in harmony with it. Since time is
going to kill me off eventually I want to fuck it up on the way down the drain.
I want to leave it with scars and a limp. I am the monkey on time's back...If
you're going to write, then write. If there's plans you have made, then execute
them or be damned. Time is your wings, the key. If you let it slip by, it is
acid that drips upon your soul...I must maintain this urgency. It is in the
rhythm of life. Life is furious. It explodes in foliage and rots in damp heat.
Jump in to the river that takes you to it. Otherwise life is a pause before
death. I don't comprehend how people have been able to supress their lives
enough to work in the same place year after year while the hate they had for the
place that might have saved them by giving them the push they needed to get out,
dissipates into complacency and they just toughen up and resolve themselves to a
life they don't want. They justify it with things their father told them about
responsibility. It's a strength of character I don't posess. That life reeks of
death. An unhurried, languid death that doesn't walk, but ambles down the hall.
Old footsteps dumbly decaying out of hearing range. The blood thickens and the
world slows down. The blues fade and reds become muddy.

Henry Rollins, 'Smile, You're Travelling'.

Henry Rollins,philosophy,