Fire for the Bones

I never understood people who didn't have a fire for life. The loafers, the drunks, the pill poppers, the stoners. Whether they were born into lives of desperate poverty or lives of easy entitlement ---they lacked something in their paper thin souls.

Born weak. 

No hunger for the riches of any kind the universe had to offer. Just an appetite for the day to day existence of hiding, numbing and dying slowly. 

No curiosities for the world's limitless beauty and fathomless mysteries.

No hunger for the words of poets, the trickery of magicians, the cunning of illusionists.

Just the pathetic existence of  bums. Scam artists. Swindlers. Cons.

Those who bask in the fruitless glory of living on the fringe. Like their lives are some big fucking mystery. 

There is no mystery. No awe for life. No fire for the bones.

CJ Ellis

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