Steak for chicken

Maybe I was right.

You've got blood in your viens

Language is a veritable manifestation of limited expression. The spoken word diminishes that which lies unexpressed within us, and yet its power is felt through the exquisite horror of reality and permanence. We cannot retrieve the words that we send out into the ether that collide with the minds of others. Instead, we are bound and ruled by the continuity of language. There are feelings, thoughts, energies, and emotions within our hearts and minds that should not and cannot be uttered in the form of words or sounds. And yet, we must keep trying to convey that which lies dormant and intense within us. But how? Where words fail, what succeeds in bringing truth and understanding between two souls longing for closeness? A meaningful look, perhaps? A gentle brush of feathery fingers against ardent skin? How can we, as humans, kindle a light in the mere darkness of a world filled with excessive and selfish individuality that denies all connection to the souls of others?