I have dueled with a dark god.
Unleashed my inner energies,
bathed in my own power
on a rapidly vanishing planet.

I have been waylaid
by an ashashin,
felt the dagger pierce my back,
on the road to Damascas.

I have been chained
to a bed for an entire weekend,
crippled by the pleasure
of the scarlet fetter of my lust.

I have been catapulted
into the stratosphere
by the fifty megaton blast of my joy.
And I have lain bleeding and dejected,
in the gutter of my misery.

I have been to hell, and back
so many times, that Charon
has given me frequent boater miles.
I have flown on the backs of angels,
unflinchingly I stared at the searing sun.
Never once did I fear falling

I've seen the ocean
burn.
I've seen a city
submerged.

I have seen a man
on the verge of defeat,
dig deep, and connect,
with a hailmary haymaker,
that made one million jaws drop,
before his opponent finally got up,
two minutes later,
only to shake hands and hug it out.

Everything that I know, everything I have seen,
everything I am and have been,
is absolutely meaningless...
without poetry.