Here Comes A Fighter....

Things seem okay. It's the same deal everyday, take a loan from dirty sharking angels to pay that huge tab in hell. The circle always comes around and round. I am learning to love it. Because I got tired of being crushed daily under the weight of paperwork and monotony. Looking for love makes me shameless, and being a number willingly makes me nameless. But, suddenly I wake up momentarily look up at the florescent above that computer screen and recall that I am special, spontaneous --a fucking joy to the lives I touch. And in that special forever second it's overwhelming how marvelously high and powerful I feel right then. Then just like that, it's gone again and I am sitting there wondering how I got there and what I was doing.

But, that moment of clarity is worth it. So, very worth it, that you spend your life grasping for it. It's what keeps ya going, moving forward, fighting onward. Beautifully wearing those puckering scars for everyone to see. "Yeah, look at me, I live." I am an honest representation of a human being. It makes me laugh.

I am a lady.  The penultimate of feminine strength, goodness, and loveliness. And no, you may not drag me down to where you are --it will ruin my shoes. So, if you fuck with me, I will stomp on you and use you as step stool to get back up, to rise once more, so I can shine for the people who need my light. I have to shine bright because this place is dark. I am needed like a lighthouse. I am brilliant like the sun for everyone to see. And the sun never goes out --it may go down, but still there. Waiting to warm you with my love, to sparkle your vampires, bring up your flowers, and make you sweat sweetly.

So, I don't care if you want to be my boyfriend. I am feeling good, dancing in my underwear, jumping up and down. Feeling sexy. I am appreciated like a walking work of art by everyone who sees me. The jiving imperfection of asymmetry is beauty if you shake it just right. Wink it just so it shimmers like light babies bouncing across water. Perfection is passe, I have graduated into the talent of striking peculiarity with a dash of humor and a ream of confidence. So, I am waxing my legs poetic tonight, smoking conventions in the bathtub of frothing jealous bubbles and oily gossip. Maybe tomorrow a normal blog....if I feel like it.