Some do drugs, others go out for a run, but at the end we’re all just searching for that tiny space, perhaps a hole, that gives us shelter from the terrible reality of the world.
My blood is sea water and starlight. My breath, a hurricane. My song, a thunderstorm. My soul blooms roses in the sunlight, my teeth are biting thorns.
I am a force of nature.
Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness.