Monday January 26, 2015
from Outside Magazine
It takes a pack of them to keep me down. A pack of them, all fired up and caged for too long. Otherwise I’m like they are, clawing my way through hearts…and the flesh that was born to protect them. I see the moon and I transform into a nightmare. Into a bloody, toothy, shit eating grin. I’m the face that the dark stays dark for. And it’s not anger. It’s not rage. It’s torment and pain and obsession and truth. It’s raw like the wild and dangerous like the wind.