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I've had enough of the meekness. The coolness. The slow, yawning, gummy and trembling. The tired and unwilling. The frightened, the injured and sick. The beleaguered. The unconfident, the ignorant and slow.

If the color of my blood causes nausea, good. At least you are feeling something. Which is more than you were doing ten minutes ago.

Why are you here? You don't burn. You don't try. You don't care or desire or boil or fidget. You waste your time in stasis because you are too afraid to look like a fool. You hide behind intellectuality. You use wit as a shield. Mine is a knife. A big knife. And I'm coming to get you.

Jump. Fall. Ram it down. Kick it hard. Scream. Do something irrational. And I swear if you take one more sip of that cappuccino, I'll kill you.

Why is it that nobody seems to see the fact that our lives are ticking away every day at speeds we can't imagine. Do you remember your childhood? Do you remember how quickly it passed you by? Today is passing just as quickly. And there is no stopping it.

Carpe fucking diem. Jump on it, stay in it. Wrestle and grind teeth. Tear, pull, sob and scream. Plead, heave and spit. Moan, wail.

Bend and change. Flow. Be dynamic. Grow and spin out of control. Risk it all and go broke. Throw everything away. It is only holding you down. We can all fly, but we keep each other from it with ridicule and gossip. Rumors and popularity. We are all slowly killing each other.

Your stability smothers me.

Your end is driving my means, and I will not be quiet.

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