tonight the moon is using my body like a punching bag. heartbeats halved and quartered, backbone nose-broken but still smirking like a buffoon, and my brain, on all fours, chasing its tail, yapping and yapping "wheezaagaaagaaae!" i'm on the concrete, and somehow the moon is leaning over me, lips almost touching my ears, whispering: "didn’t you tell me once that you decided never to die?" and i think, waitaminute. this is my life: i'm lying down, i'm getting enough sleep, i'm eating healthy, and i'm feeling older than i've ever felt in my life. but maybe i can peel off this dead skin and roll it into gum, chew it, and blow out a yellow brown bubble that'll lift me a few feet off this ground.
in short: FLY OR DIE.