I'm making things more difficult
for myself
so I can really feel the suffering.

Feel my eyes being pricked by
rose thorns, my tears spilling like morning dew on petals.

Feel the dull ache echoing in
my whole body, like a thousand thrumming orchestras to a deaf person.

Feel sweet, blessed pain as my nerves are set stinging on fire
like a comatose person after they awake.

I am prepared to go to dramatic lengths
just to prove that I am alive. I am
a rash trapeze artist putting my worst
foot forward in a wrong
direction.

Give me
a shove in ANY direction
except
where I came from and
I will be grateful even if I tumble
fifty feet down.

I am prepared
to feel the wind caress my scalp,
to make love to danger and get
kissed from trouble
even if perfection
only ever lasts just
for a moment.