everyday like this, the madness of it, outside breathing yearning that one thing more, always the one thing more, never forget it, the choice, the choices before, everyday and another, again and again, to live, to choose to live, to love, to dream, to be, whomever you are, where you are, not just another stain, not just a mulching machine rift and saddled with mistakes and regrets, a being machine, a making machine, soft and hard parts, bone and skin and desire and grief.
i have always been badly tuned to the pain and joy within me, such highs and lows that the whipping had me bouncing off the walls to a dance only inside my head.