Coursing up and down at a speed and strength burning off adrenalin. Screaming against the indignity of facing the limitations of normal breathing. Seething at the pores and ripping through the muscle fibres, an explosion of pain blasting caps along a stream of ripples. Outward appearances have nothing more to say of it. Nothing as resolute or polite as the simple act of clarity or solid form. Arms champing at the prospect of "hulking out" and shredding their confines. Desires to grow crippled by their disparate weakness.
Soon Van - Thursday, 28 April 2005 - 02:59
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Creativity starves insanity