How many stories do I tell until I’ve told them all? Til I’ve poured out the soul of me, the soul of my writing? Will I be seen in the words, do I want to be? The world I created calls for life’s blood to exist as each step and word propels me to my future where I exist or I am bled dry.
The future pulls as hard as the words while the music is the avalanche I ride and am trounced by to get there.