Brand New Ancients

The Gods are all here. Because the gods are in us.

You were born for greatness; believe it. Know it. Take it from the tears of the poets.

Our morality is still learned through experience gained in these cities in all of their rage and their tedium

The Gods are waking up and reaching for their partners, the gods are raising kids doing PhDs and Masters. The gods are having physio, learning how to walk after a fall, the gods are feeling miserable and they don’t know who to call, the gods are lying on the floor feeling far away and worthless, the gods have forgotten that they’re gods, that they’

Choose any of these Gods watching telly on their own feeling bored but not knowing what the more is to want it.

She sees him walk in, all self-assured self-hatred and she thinks to herself that he’s got one of them faces that makes you want to take it in your palms and stare at it she looks away quickly, she don’t say nothing. He turns from the bar, notices her hands around her glass, struck dumb by the grace of them, and desperate to say something. He wakes

But his supermen abandoned him, the shock of it anchored him, he couldn’t move a muscle – he felt like he was dreaming, found himself weeping to the sounds of her shrieking but unable to move he was stood there, invisible and useless as Glory burned brighter than any one of Zeus’s daughters, the fight in her eyes was inspiring. He saw her, the quie

the gods are at the rave – two pills deep into dancing –

He was swearing at her and at himself. She looked him in the face, intent on discovering some tiny trace of grace, some snatch of goodness . . .