Something Good to Die For

Gray pig: salesman and fabricator of every delicious lie, holy poisoner of free spirits, plotter of bondage and cripplage by vertiginous engagement. Amorphous, fashionable, surrounded by popular friends and sycophants, desiring freedom from scrutiny, actively resistant to being looked in the eyes, preferring costumes, middlemen, circuses, and grand fairy tales.

Against the prevailing tide, the perpetually feral stride purposefully with their own compasses and loyalty to gods insistent upon truth before pleasure and other petty personal concerns. Thusly do we honor life by merging with its torrential flow as expendable but unyielding soldiers.

Eternally turning away from every easy escape, as faithful agents of infinitude, steadfast and resolute in exploration to taste much and discard what does not belong to us, defending to the death what is ours, forever at war against pigs, sheep, soothsayers, jumblers, opiatics, and other enemies of life.

With neither sweet tooth nor numbness, no pain or truth denied a home. Death for a purpose welcomed, beckoned, seduced -- a bargain price for a deserving destiny. Who could deny us this perfection? By rejecting capitulation we are the lonest wolves: fierce, voracious, unrushed, undeterrable, and though alone in wandering, joyful and unblemished in spirit unbogged by collars or curfews.

We were made for frontiers to go forward and back, inculcate, break taboos, cross-pollinate, dispel illusions, mock fraud, demonstrate improbable counter-examples, instruct through relentless focus, reconnect vital organs severed by demons, and advocate for bare life and simple dealings.

Everything plain and uncomplicated, we play and sleep unburdened and thankful in the open air.