So yeah, nothing else to do but do.
I am exuberant.
I'll inhabit a wasted day with nothing wasted, chasing imagination through the pain in my knuckles. Just keep telling myself tomorrow is an illusion, until one day I can forget what hasn't happened long enough to make something happen now. Keep going, keep going, the pain grows, I can't take but take it and then there is the one glorious second when my passion outstrips my body and I'm invincible. I collapse, thinking of old movies from the 70s and hope one day to fly--leaping off the roof long enough to forget the ground.
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