The Maximum Volume of Morosity

Picture taken by unknown (12/21/18)

This is not a pursuit of serenity. No, what lays strewn out before us is the entrails of all of my torment twisting the bile of my guts, tears and shit smeared across a canvas of isolated pain buried deep in the cave of a black heart festering with the gangrene of betrayal and abandonment.

I am not seeking solace or transcendence. This is instead the pursuit of pushing beyond and clawing for the center of desperation. This is not the point of pressure in which the puss snaps out of the head offering slimy and sexual satisfaction, but rather a deep footing in the brewing ache of infection and the resentment that fills life's pores.

Dancing for more rain, so that I may remain shut in with the pain. Dancing to stay insane. Running in the rain. Dancing insane.