The Jungle

Salty. Metallic. Buttery smooth with a hint of sweetness. It coated my lips, glazed my tongue and ran down my neck. Velvety crimson in hue, deep and glossy with a certain warmth to it. It crusted to a rusty brown around the corners of my mouth. Streaks cracked like evaporated rivers, tracing down to the bottom of my abdomen. 

Blood. 

It was all I could taste. 

It felt strange, to embrace and savor something intended to course within my veins. Like a switch that was flipped, revealing the dark underbelly of my vitality and fragility. It was a startling sensation, a primal signal that battled my need to convert to a clean-cut world of folded linen and ironed silk. An undomesticated urge to claw at grilled steak and rip up hand-knitted wool. A fierce yearning to dart into the wilderness, exhilarated by the thrill of the chase. I sat at my desk, clicking keys and reading numbers. I sipped black coffee and took a bite out of a sandwich, yet blood was still what I could taste. Despite my efforts to ignore the disturbing metallic tang, I hungered for more. My tastebuds craved it, and though society diserns it as horrific, that liquid of saline iron bolstered my inner depths of my primal appetite. The sight, or even the very idea of our vital fluid outside our bodies used to make my stomach churn. The image of blood under the moonlight, a foreboding stain of gore and torment, now acted as a beacon embracing life’s portentous unpredictability. My heartbeat raced as my eyes darted back and forth to the numbers on my screen, concentrating on anything but the primitive hunger that began to rise from my insides. Ones and zeros merged like blotted ink while letters blended like water-downed shadows. They forged a cryptic mosaic on the screen, dancing and chanting like figures painted within a dimly lit cave. The noise of spears and hollering crowded my ears as my vision darkened. The fading light of my workspace grew into the pulsating vibrancy of the color red. That was all I could see- red. 

 And then I cracked. 

I had to get out, I had to leave. I bolted towards the door, knocking over books and papers as my nails scratched onto the walls to maintain balance. I kicked the door open, sniffing the air to locate my target and my task. Yet I did not know what I was doing, or where I was going. All I knew was that the jungle awaited me. Cars honked and people screamed as I continued to sprint to my destination. I couldn’t differentiate traffic light colors as everything around me was washed in a dark vermillion hue. The rhythmic thumps of blood pumping echoed my eardrums, the heart gulping surges like a starving beast. An intricate machine of vibrating mechanisms, grinding and performing a continuous flow of saliva that dribbled out my mouth. It mixed into the previously crusted red on my stomach, causing it to fade as I carried on with my journey across the city. My panting quickened as my pace accelerated. However, I came to a sudden halt. 

There, in front of me, were my parents. My mother, with a mortified expression on her face, commanded me to stop. My father, who had a more disappointed look, nodded in agreement. They asked me where I was going. I could not answer, as I truly did not know. My mother began to cry- her tears reeked with shame and disgust. Her body shook and hunched, causing my vision to brighten to its original hue. In the distance, the birds and trees whispered my name as the wind attempted to usher me towards them. The thumps of my heart continued to pound, seemingly on the inside of my skull. I had a difficult decision- to drown my thoughts with nature's drumbeat, or ration my actions with nurtured intelligence. The chants of the jungle harmonized with the drumming of my body, and the taste of blood filled my mouth once again. It was a flavor not everyone could stomach, but yet for me, it was a catalyst that drove me forward into the depths of the unknown. It reminded me that I was alive, and I was still in the game- the hunt. 

I pounced forward, startling my parents as they leaped to avoid impact. Every noise within the city was interlinked to my mind- each movement tracked and traced with detailed awareness. What was I hunting for, you may ask? The answer to such a perilous question would be that I was hunting for anything and everything. I was sick with trepidation, confined to a molding office chair. A wild beast domesticated to obey. A house cat, one fed with stories of the frightening outdoors. The jungle calls for me. 

I traveled miles, darting between traffic and human beings. The great migration of a single individual. The relentless sun baked my skin, burnt my eyes and tore my feet. Vultures circled above menacingly, waiting for my internal system to backfire and shut down. But the thumps, the rhythmic dance- they persisted. Each pump of crimson was a testament to my enduring will, one that could not be shattered solely by peckish birds. Days, months, or possibly even years had passed. However, a silhouette of a towering tree emerged on the horizon. A sign, a shift, a shadow. I galloped towards the beacon of possibility, and once I had finally reached it, I took in a gasp. I inhaled the tangy tartness of ripening fruits, the thick moisture of rich vegetation, and the sweet nectar of flowering canopies. My surroundings pulsed with a primitive liveliness, each leaf whispering secrets shared in the depths of woven foliage and resting pavilions. They exchanged stories of war and peace, ones that emerged from an instinctive loop of dietary cascades. Ceaseless feasting, sprouting, and prattling. Everything and anything happened. Now it was all within my reach. I wandered deeper into the unknown, stroking barks of brick and stems of steels. Branches of brass and roots of rock paved my path as the concrete jungle welcomed my presence. I sacrificed my safety for the freedom of the wild. Predators lurked in anticipation, but my accomplishing joy brought along an unshakable ignorance. I knew that I would survive, as long as my blood still flowed through my body and coated my lips. The metallic flavor of success, a purifying taste of victory. 

Buttery smooth with a hint of sweetness.