burn42

I hear the echoes of a thousand years behind me. The shadows of former selves dancing this maddening ritual. Persist the species, recreate yourself in another. The primal joining of cell with cell to begin the growth of yet another generation. I feel the fire of the beasts that I am rolling in my gut, making me want and strive. The gods laugh at my twisted mind and body as I put on the show that entertains them most. Dancing with the flow of the wash. What is more wicked, that a man may torture himself in the timely fashion of his ancestors, or that a species should die out because life refuses the pain that comes with survival