Show Some Bones

san

Sacred sighs, lost in a sea of time. Bodies and souls, from a world before the fall. Original sin passed from beast to man then back again. Melancholy makes us feel real. It keeps us from becoming machines. A true state, not tainted by cheap glitter or modern progress. The progress of eradicating passion and madness. Of breaking the spirits of those who have not yet surrendered to a system based on control. Take your dirty money, and blow it out your ass. Go suckle the saggy tit of plastic culture, and choke on it real good. If you sell yourself to the system, then you deserve everything you get. If you reduce yourself to a way of living devoid of beauty, then they may as well float you down river with the turds. It’s a dirty end, but what did you expect?

Numbers and rules. Ways of being. Clear and calculated careers, mirrored to infinity. Mundane aspirations, so lacking in anything organic. So lacking, in the poetry of our fearful hearts. Don’t suffocate these fears, let them breathe. It’s not a sign of weakness to be afraid; it’s what makes us tender and free. Anxiety is freedom. Sleepless nights a testament to the fact that we’re still alive while others are comatose. All those dreamless fuckers, less than nothing beneath a starless sky. To suffer is an act of awareness. To feel lonely, a passage to divinity. Ride the storm. Swim the filthy seas. Stand even when it’s too much. With every ounce of strength you have, pass through the darkness. The journey is hard, and there’s no destination. But the essence of ecstasy in being aware of absolutely everything is undeniable.

The vertigo of time. The spiral of our lives, always unravelling out of reach. Clap those hands. Show those bones. Light a candle, and say a prayer to those who never made it. Moments of calm. Unsaid hurt, kept silent for far too long. Distorted sounds, heaven scent so sunless and frail. Relax and show some faith. Be who you want to be, and never take no for an answer. The questions have no meaning, so ignore them. Remember me, and always keep me close. Take my hand, and lead me to a place where we are not known. Let me have what I want. I’ll make it good I swear. They’ll be no looking back. This magic more powerful than a thousand bombs. And all those bombs, exploding within your flesh, striking you at the core; reducing you to a mess of wild delight. It’s just so easy. All you have to do is try.

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