The Mark

This is the flag. The signal. The mark.

No charts. No pyramids. No peace-sign kale leaves. Just a logo forged from instinct and rebellion — half skull, all intention.

Worn by those who walk the other way. Who eat without apology. Who live without asking.

Rough around the edges. Soft where it counts. Built to outlast the noise.

Flesh and Bone Co. — for the ones who know their way back home.