Shoot the Sunshine into my Veins

“my mind is a safe and if i keep it then we all get rich. My body is an orphanage- we take everyone in. Doing lines of dust and sweat off of last night’s stage just to feel like you…”

You know the feeling. Come on, how can’t you? Its instinct and as people read this they can call me foul, disgusting whore or a Satanic, posessed, misguided bitch but they’d be lying. They’ve had moments like these. We all have, its pure human nature and i can’t help but pause just to praise the existence we are, the creatures we can be and this instinctual, overriding passion that undermines us all.

Its that wicked feeling, the one where as you sit still you find your body aching and bleeding and longing to get up and move, to do anything to be anything, anything but where you are and who you are. You want to press your skin against cold stone just in hope that the goosebumps will give you meaning. You want to lift your hands and touch clouds in the ecstasy that is true high and giggle until your head explodes from Oding on abuse, misery and bliss. You want to get up and move, you want to steal the keys and take the car and push your foot on the pedal just to feel the acceleration burning your body and sending you into hyperspeed. You want nothing more than to shove a needle into your wrist and feel that raw chemicals as they twist and mutate your being into whatever they decide. You want to find the nearest teenager and let them creep inside of you and give them your very beaing, your essance and all remainder of who you are just so that you can taste the sweat and hear the moans. You want to exist, not in who you are. You want to let go.

It’s the deep passion that lies in all of us, to give it all away. To strip off the clothing and the masks and the pretenses and run, howling and laughing and singing at the top of your lungs through the woods, rolling in the sticks and the grass until your face is completely unrecognizable by blood and savageness. To kill to survive and to exist without guilt, but instead to thrive on the waves of protectiveness, anger, remorse, and thrill—no strings attached, nothing left behind. Its as though a tornado has swept through the skin and caught you in a grasp of something you never before even knew existed.

Its savageness. Its animalistic instinct, visceral passion, the very thing that drives all of humanity.

It is the quietly hidden away desire we all have to live the unedited life.

No control, no pressure, no worries, no qualms. To throw it all away. To lift up the curtain and cast illusions and perfect little suburban worlds down into the grave and raise up the motels with hourly rates and the corners where cash and lifelines swap into bare hands. To embrace what we were given and feel no shame about naked skin, to open ones heart to any type of agony and dance, touched but not broken, beaten but laughing, about fire that warms the heart even as it burns the skin.

We are all masochistic. We are all fools.

But what would be so wrong with giving in? Its not about sex or drugs or alcohol or self-abuse. Its about finding the things that can literally give us mental and emotional and spiritual climaxes and clinging to those moments.

Perhaps if we were all Hedonists, the world would be a better place.