The pace of my life has slowly aligned itself with the prolonged sounds of monotony
and the unnerving feeling of expectancy
I miss the rush
Its taste in between my palate and tongue as it dissolved and unleashed its acidic wave of sensations
It's bitter flavors masked by the pleasures of its thrills, its bewilderment, its awes and tragedies.
I long for chills like those to run rampant again,

like a pack of hungry wolves in search of fulfillment following the trails of my every vertebrae,

refusing to be contained in the disillusioned confinements of my mind

slowly peeking out in dreams reminding me of all I wish I had
Yet all I already do have
Howls that transform themselves into my sleepless nights endorsing my ventures for emotion in the obscurity of crowded spaces
Encouraging me to fill the emptiness within myself with the emptiness of others
Dead bodies purple and blue parading with their bleeding hearts in hand
Following each other's trails of frozen blood on the look for a finish line
Seeking for the wrong kind of warmth in the wrong kind of people
searching for the thrill of a promised land forgetting how to replenish the blood of their already  depleted hearts
Trading the touch of their lips for a touch to their soul
Hoping to at least get some sort of that acidic bitterness at the tip of their tongues
A catalyst that could melt the frozen grips
A magic key to free their mental imprisonment
Liberated not to resume this useless desire for love but for the freedom to acknowledge love was never gone.