Two Fuck-Ups, Fucking up

Here I can taste your breath on my lips; I can breathe your breath and nourish my body. Every cell envying the cell before it that gets to touch you sooner and be alive. And yes, they are alive; I am alive and life has never shouted REVOLUTION so loudly. Never jumped the chance to pull the plug and begin, never understood that you don’t need a battery to operate—and shouts FUCK, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! it, Fuck the world—Fuck the new world— Fuck the order— shouts OCCUPIED. And doesn’t stop shouting even though it knows you hear it. It wants more than for you to hear, it wants you. It wants you more than the waves of the ocean desire to storm the shore and extinguish the land, gun-free but not without aggression; alive and brimming with passionate aggression, giving fear something to be afraid of. And tomorrow when I wake up and know that I have slept I will see your face and know that I have wakened. I am Alive, and anyone that hasn’t known you can never be alive as I, breathing that gaze, and those eyes—non-conformist eyes so hardcore they refuse to even imitate each other. The truth is you are bad-ass. You are Life kissing Death like passionate lovers who have just been told that by morning they will both vanish forever, so fuck it—why not just disappear? That is the truth about liars with tongues that tisk,tisk at us—so you say, “I know a man named Truth,” and given the circumstances, they will never know Truth the way you do—wrapped by the night and sealed by the day. The Day with pondering eyes saying, “Who the hell are those kids? Those kids, there, with pictures painted on their skin for the world so fewer words need to be spoken and holes in their ears that do nothing for their hearing and the life that they took from the stars hanging in their eyes?” And we say, “We are here, we are alive. Fuck the world, I only want you.”