I managed to finally, finally, come close to not wanting to die. I was finally there. I was aware of what was going on, even if vaguely.
I could see Death disappearing in my rear view mirror, Pestilence a tall tale. I had a hold on the reins to my life like a war god to his chariot. I was finding so much beauty that Aphrodite and Venus would be jealous.
Then I crashed.
I was doing fine and, suddenly, I had a sharp decline.
I was finally feeling the blood in my veins and the air in my lungs.
But then I scrapped my knees and couldn't breathe.
But then I got up again.
I stood on my own two feet, stared down my emptiness. I overtook every little negative thing that could have been overtook, I burned them at the stake and replaced them with seeds of hope.
I could feel the warmth of emotions, I could feel the heat of someone, and the burning of wanting life.
There are times I am happy to be alive, and now is one for the books.
Left foot, right hook, right?
