One-hundred and Fifty-nine: Alive

I tuck myself into corners, smiling in my sleep, as my world spins around me
in singing rainbow stripes. The sky is so close I can almost lick it and I know
it won’t taste of the blues. There are honeyed voices stroking the nape of my neck,
volcanic chuckles sprinkled with surprise: I keep forgetting how witty we are.
I am so straight. I only bend over to make them watch me snap back. My body
is a magnet. I like seeing their eyes eat me; I know that I won’t vanish if they
stop being hungry. Historical friendships are favourite pajamas; new ones
are spices I never knew I had. I know everyone. Strangers shake my hand
and I see them. Whipped cream straight from the can excites me. My life
is a thousand beads of coincidences, all strung up in fate. I feel every footstep.
I am a hurricane of hope, a wave of wishes, a tree of triumphs. I am alive.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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