flirting with death?
I'm fucking death on the side.
while my family sleeps peacefully in their beds and my heart sits at home, up late, waiting for me to return once again from my sordid affair with the devil.
watching time tick by from the clock on the wall.
the big, old fashioned clock on the wall of our apartment together.
the big clock on the wall that we couldn't bear to get rid of because the lady who lived there before had taken her memories of it to her grave.
My heart, sitting in our sheets.
The discount ones we had bought together when we were strapped for cash on the third Friday of the month.
The ones we both sleep in, most nights, when I'm not out taking pleasure from the very thing that could end all of our joy.
and I feel good.
I feel good, surrounded by garbage and the darkest of darks and I know what it feels like to be alive.
flirting with disaster?
I'm jumping right into the middle of that fucker.
I'm swan-diving right off the highest of cliffs into a foot-wide bucket half filled with live piranhas and acid.
I'm hopping along a tightrope five thousand miles off the ground, on one foot while balancing a small child in each hand in the middle of a thunderstorm.
I'm defending the rights of underprivileged minorities and persecuted peoples to a large room of american, russian and north korean government officials,
all pointing individual nuclear missiles at each other and me.
I'm not flirting with disaster.
I'm embracing it.
I'm living in a constant state of unfinished, unpolished, chaotic and insane disaster.
and I love it.
I love the chaos, the insanity and the unfinished business of doom as it looms over my friends, my family, my world and my art.
flirting with safety?
flirting with tranquility?
flirting with peace?
there is a reason no one says those things.
No one wants a minimal commitment from the very conventions meant to protect the weak and the vulnerable.
No one wants the half-hearted, playful version of a force meant to come from nature and the strength of man.
I don't flirt.
I run and I jump and I pray for a second chance before the first has even expired.
I sprint towards the horizon with the joy and passion usually reserved for children and artists, leaping and bounding towards the future of my painful existence.
I fall into chasms of darkness without hesitation, without even a care for the future or a thought to the impact of what I may find myself doing.
I burst through tall fences and I leap over cliffs without looking.
and I live.
flirting with death?
No ma'am, not me.
I'd rather flirt with girls.