In the Beginning (poetic stance)

We found ourselves festering in a falsified sense of security.
8 hours of our day was spent distanced, 
making money for a Man who would only pocket it and pursue himself. 
Who wants to spend that much time piling up profits in a perverted bastard paroling the entire world?
Because that world was our home.
At least, that world was our home.
But, why not make that world our home again?

What if we took this twisted system of structures and shelters, and intertwined them to break down the destructive drywall that separated us from ourselves? 

Home is anywhere you can hang your hat,
and I can hang my hat anywhere on this damn planet.

I won't be chained to my own room, by an army of material possessions.
I won't be tied to this game; owning a thrown in society by claiming a home.

Fuck that.

What's the solution? 
This led to confusion,
and ultimately
led to financial diffusion.

Our pockets thickened with thousands of dollars,
we emptied our bank accounts and slapped some blue collars;
we hollered and yipped a the sound of our trip,
it was tremendous, a glimpse
into a future, financed only by freedom,
a vision of friends forced
out of the cages of captors,
only to be enraptured by ourselves
and the silence we'll share beneath the skies,
and stars,
while the constellations constantly
slip like us, across the sky
while we would speed by,
eons below,
following the firmament
while it guided our journey.

In the Beginning...

We'd found ourselves trapped into a falsified sense of security for the last 20-odd years, but we were quickly growing tired of it.

Who wants to spend 8 hours a day, piling up money in the Man's pocket so he can tear down the world in front of our very eyes? I sure as hell don't. Who wants to spend 500 bucks for a room in a house that you can't spend half your time in because you're too busy working to pay for it? I'd rather not have a home.

But... what if you could make the world our home? Home's where you hang your hat, right? Well, I can hang my hat anywhere I damn well please - on a streetlamp, under a bridge, on that birch tree.

Such topics were the jist of our conversation as we prepared ourselves for the journey ahead. We readied to lift ourselves from the chains of materialism, and rendezvous with the roots of mother Earth.

Our bucket list consisted of emptying our bank accounts, spending everything, quitting our jobs, and leaving our houses.

Quitting our jobs was the easiest. We just stopped showing up. Not only did we part ways with our possessions, we rewrote each responsibility and crossed out each note and date in our conceptual calendars.

Once we'd gathered our last paychecks (after some absurdly awkward situations with confused, agitated bosses) we decided to tackle the most daunting task: spending all our money.

We'd grossed about $2500 together. We had 18 days left on the leases for our rent, and nothing to do but kill time.

It was time to party.