The Blood & The Bones

Why am I here if it’s not to rip the dirt from the earth and your heart from your chest and the soul from these words?

Why am I here if it’s not to live at breakneck speed with a need to endure with every inch of me?

Why am I here and craving all of this when I am held back by a cage they don’t even see? As it boils and rises inside of me?

Living at bay, stifled, held down in a place of obligation and moral propensity when I crave intensity. Pushing myself through this routine living for the moments when I can just be.

But why is navigating normal not enough? Barely existing in these mundane circles of numb and ordinary. Why must I thrive on anarchy and passion and pain and mayhem and every fucking nerve of me wrapped in feeling every possibility?

Dreaming of the feral and wild, straddling the hips of chaos and savage curiosity. Primal pools of

liberating sensation and release. Living. Really living.

Why am I here if not to be all of this.. if not to be free?

the blood

& the bones