THE WILD ONES

I’ve seen the dark and tortured breed. The splendored spangled spectacle of the wild mind runneth over. That fevered species raves MAD with GENIUS. I’ve seen the roaring bunch writhing, hearts aflame, blazing desperate for beauty–howling and twisting for lifeblood. But with buried beauty wail only reaches whisper. Soft susurrus stands no chance against seekers rife with frenzy… a scrap caught fast between the frantic teeth of raucous raging. The dark and roaring tortured fated forever to writhe. It drives them all to madness; it keeps them all alive.