I love the vibrancy and energy of this, the colour just snatches out at my eyes (in a non-violent way.) This also reminds me a lot of my sister, not only in her dreadlocks or rather ragged clothing, but a recent excerpt of her Wordings/Aurating -
"And then I did my version of getting right-proper smashed: I had Art punch me a couple of times--just until I could taste adrenaline and blood. While I spat into the street and wiped my mouth off, Damon poked his head out to give me notice, and after getting a fierce hug from Art, I made m'way inside, stripping off hoodie and pressing it beneath the tables before I climbed onto the softly raised makeshift stage.
Our set was... a wounded animal; hurt, confused, angry. Frenzy of blood and spit and teeth teeth teeth. Marty was at the top of his game with dark, heavy, harsh tones and furious breakbeat, I did my best to keep up.
After a particularly long, toothed spit, I gasped in for breath, and a particular beat hit me hard directly in my diaphragm--to the point that I almost fell over.
And I opened my mouth, then.
It was the most primal noise I've loosed, outside of the yowl of crying hysterically.
I'm not sure what--strike that, I am very sure of what inspired it.
Make me wanna holler, the way they do my life.
I threw my hands up, and I hollered. Somewhere between a scream and a shout, elongated by the power of a howl.
This ain't livin', this ain't livin'.
When I was done I... dropped the mic. Some of you understand this.
I almost threw it, and just... stood there.
The night was good. It was full and ripe and juicy."