no sir, im not a nazi...

[folk_it_up]

last night, the kneehigh boots were doned, the cropped wool pants adorned, and downtown bound, the night began. Flying elbows, legs awry, the sweaty bodies hurled unremorsefully through the crowd. Pulsating with redundant bursts of whatever they couldn't fight before. Here everyone has a battle scar and a victorious story of how brave they once were. Here weakness does not exist. Here he is invisible to the obligations of who he is supposed to be. Here is birthed the child of begrudged destinies and repressed expression. Here he feels alive.
Now with swollen face and bones so sore that walking, let alone fighting this, is not an option; i smile the painful crooked smile of a girl who desperatly misses who she used to be.