There are times I think I see him peeling outta the dark...

[wolfwings]

So many years ago... and yet I still find his music holding my life together.

So many years ago... I looked down that long, dark, chrome-lined tunnel into one's soul... and found myself talked away from that ledge by the same voice I'm listening to now, but for so many different reasons this time.

I look back on myself, where I've been, and wonder where I'm going. Wondering if I'm walking the right path, the good path. IF I was religious in that way, if I was walking the Hold path under His protection. As it is, I just wonder if I should stop to catch a bite to eat with the bum on the side of the road, or hold out till the Truck Stop down the road instead, either way I'll learn something more interesting to me, personally. :-)

Why am I so damn bitchy suddenly, why am I in this mood where I have zero tolerance for anything? I'm in one of those 'I don't give a flaming damn about you today, what about ME?' moods. Those 'I'm not here to help keep you upright today, I'm falling over!' moods.

I'm wishing I had someone I could... not curl up with. Not feel so bound up with, someone I could bitch and rant around, I could drive up to the mountains and just go TEARING off through the woods, barreling through the underbrush without heed for injury, or pain, or anything else. Turn myself into a bloody, growling, prowling beast, and revel in the sheer feralness of it all... the pure emotional energy unleashed when my barriers, when my restraints are cast aside. When my soul, my furnace, my true voice is loosed upon this mortal coil...

Once upon a time was a backbeat! Once upon a time all the poets came to life! And the Angels had guitars even before they had wings! If you hold on to a chorus you can get through the night!

I... I wish I knew what was getting into me, I'm just feeling so... shrouded, so bound up and listless, like something inside me is struggling to break loose...

I know what started it though. My jackets. My leather suit, and old beat-up army coat. Both have been with me for ages, one as a joke, one as my lifeblood... one with embroidery I picked out myself, and that I've worn everywhere, through everything. One I've poured my soul into... kept it locked away inside... and I wore it for the first time in years practically. Felt the raw power coursing through my body again, intoxicating...

I would nearly appologize to making this sound so odd, but screw you all if you don't understand for once. :-) I'm not appologetic for what I am... I am me. Myself. I've just tapped into a part of myself I'd locked away with a key, and forgotten I'd kept the key around at all.

Comments

The jackets... have stories behind them.

[wolfwings.livejournal.com]

The leather jacket, it's just the raw power of the material, the soul bound up inside it from the curing... anything that's honest-to-goddess leather has that, I feel it...

The army coat... it's got MY soul bound up inside it, in every long-worn fiber of it's being, from the liner to the sleeves to the hood. It's been through hell and back with me, through the good times and the bad.

Through life, and through death, of those closest to me, of the closest thing I'll ever have to true brothers...

*grins at the end of your comment* And it's not that I need someone to chew out, it's that I need somewhere to ravage, some place I can tear across like it just doesn't matter anymore...

I'd try the bubble idea... but it's too far disconnected from nature, from the force of life flowing around me as I move...

It's... too plastic a solution. :-)