Brew yourself a hurricane and put it in your belly. Let it howl and spit its fury and spin you all around. The idea being that it just might scoop you up high enough to land you on your feet again. Maybe even get you walking. This isn’t living. It’s a shake up. Custom made terror.

I reached up into your murky sky, and filled my fists with the darkness, pulled it down and broke clouds over my knee. I shook the light out. It’s in there. Just like I promised. You can’t just wish for that light strike. You can't simply hope for the best. It's up there, coursing thru the dark. Lift your arms up and take it already.

I wear it. Right here behind my eyes. It’s called life. Nobody is ever going to love you until they can see it staring back at them.

(actively seeking new clients everyday)