Revolution is coming. Can you hear its whisper? Like thunder approaching in the distance. Like an orgasm rising up your legs and overcoming your senses, calling for your surrender, and if not in this life time then in the next one. We play roles over and over, friends, lovers, mothers, fathers our souls change clothes like fickle children and prima-donnas. So take my hand, and broken heart and give everything to this Scorpio born, sun in Leo, moon in Taurus, stars in a king Cobra wrapped around a Unicorn horn. What are you waiting for? Nothing you hide behind has any value anymore. Do you remember when the light that shone through the stain glass pain of your soul gave birth to a world? But after it cracked you closed it off and now watch from behind a stone wall wondering why you’re not on fire like Spirit on napalm, god on an atom bomb. But I believe in you. Because I know you, am you, need you, want you, have given my life fourteen billion times over for you, so give it back just this once, hard as a final breath, as if there was no time left and this was the last before death, tumbling hand in hand with only seconds left to rip open that chest and die to the lightning bolt that is your soul’s finger print expressing itself like the original light of this grand experiment. No, don’t think, breathe, or speak. Your death is the only thing in the way of a life that you owe to me. So take the knife. Cut the fear. Free the blood. It’s the only warm thing that you’re made of, rolling down your body like a second skin speaking in the kind of tongue that only hungry men and women know and love.