My head is an animal.

My head is an animal. Clentching it's teeth on my skin, dragging it's claws across my chest, digging deep into my flesh and bones. Breaking, dripping, gazing, howling at the moon and reminding me to keep away from thoughts of morbidity. For everything that rushes through me from now on is nothing but pure dirty energy.
'There's no place for dead ones here, have you not heard?' it says. 'This animal is now a temple of freedom. Death cannot pass through these gates, for your mind is soundlessly peaceful with the energy of it's own awareness'. The animal in my head begins to roar, and it echoes down my veins and skull. This sound rushes through my blood, opening up my pores as I try to listen to it. My ears hurt just of trying to keep up to the heavy breathing of it. I can't. I absolutely can't keep up with it. Slowly, as my body melts into this big pool of liquid freedom, and I see it taking shape, bathed in blood. Is it a lion? Maybe a bear, perhaps a fox. I don't know, it moves so slowly across the floor that I can barely look at it straight. It saunters as I try to look, and it quickly glances at me for a second. It's fur is stained with my blood, and it's breath fills my head with heat and steam. This animal of mine (or am I it's?) steps slowly into the open field we suddenly appeared at. It starts running. It runs, runs, runs deep into nowhere. What was left of me is torn apart by it's final roar. It's so loud and clear that my ears bleed. I cannot live anymore, not because it has killed me, but because I have already died. For I am an animal.