Day Fifty; “I’ll be coming to recruit your rebel children, there ain’t no use in locking doors, there’s one of me in every hole! With mud on my boots and blood on my jeans, I’ll take those pretty dresses tear them at the seams.” -Mischief Brew “Roll Me Through the Gates of Hell” Part of me wants to give completely in, and I know that the strongest being of that want has totally given up my will. Still though, after all these years, part of me rebels. Part of me is lead with this fire that brews in the root of my existence, it burns through my intestines within one beat of my heart, one inhale up until it reaches my neck — then I let out a breath, a smile pulls my cheeks towards my brow where my eyes are darting around, finding truth in everything around me, a feeling that no church ever gave me tangles itself in my DNA. I can’t figure out which feeling feels right, I have two of my favorite color bricks in my hands, but I don’t know which one to build this stretch of my path with.

Day Fifty; “I’ll be coming to recruit your rebel children, there ain’t no use in locking doors, there’s one of me in every hole! With mud on my boots and blood on my jeans, I’ll take those pretty dresses tear them at the seams.” -Mischief Brew “Roll Me Through the Gates of Hell”
Part of me wants to give completely in, and I know that the strongest being of that want has totally given up my will. Still though, after all these years, part of me rebels. Part of me is lead with this fire that brews in the root of my existence, it burns through my intestines within one beat of my heart, one inhale up until it reaches my neck — then I let out a breath, a smile pulls my cheeks towards my brow where my eyes are darting around, finding truth in everything around me, a feeling that no church ever gave me tangles itself in my DNA.
I can’t figure out which feeling feels right, I have two of my favorite color bricks in my hands, but I don’t know which one to build this stretch of my path with.