Yeah... Kinda Like That.

Like tap dancing during an earthquake.
Like drinking fire.
Like trying to fly.
Like sitting on the third rail with a wet ass.
Like wondering what that noise was in the darkness while you're trying to sleep.
Like driving with your sense of taste.
Like eating your favorite record.
Like playing Russian Roulette with an AK-47.

Like lowering your fucking guard for two seconds
in order to let someone
who may be just a bit more enlightened
than you
teach you something about life
because you can't fucking fathom
that we may all just be one soul,
and that we should just lay down our verbal
and physical weaponry
and usher in a kindness and peace of mind
that just lasts
for the rest of humanity's reign
because making art
and being good to each other
 just. Makes. Sense.

Like accepting fate.

You chose to write poetry.

And I thank you for it.