Still Alive
Is this a triumph?
I'm still here, and I can feel it all.
The wet heat of the day temporarily melted away, the oil slick grease of my flesh clean for the moment.
In my refreshed relief I can embrace the slightly cooler night with a bit more of an eager vigor.
I'm still alive
The thoughts and plans rushing through my mind remind me of this.
The projection of tomorrow, of the death that lives in it's shadow ever present.
The memory of yesterday, of how hot blood feels when it splashes on your adrenalized skin. The twitching muscles, of mortality shutting down before your eyes.
Of the gratitude, of the smells, of the labor and heat.
I was raised being told this is disgusting.
But I love it so.
My dance with death, something only the temporarily privilaged living gets to do. And for who knows how much longer?
I thank whatever abstract force made my consciousness. I get to marvel at both life and its so called enemy with an unbastardized childlike wonder, untainted by subjective and institution-instilled so called morality.
I am still alive. When I feel pain, when I feel discomfort, when I feel stress. I am still alive.
For now.