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24" x 30" oil paint on wood panel
“Survival”
______
With every passing moment
That I somehow still make it
I am reminded
Of my tremendous significance
And insignificance
At the same time.
Somewhere in between those two,
Is the inferno of my will to live
Stoked into everything it takes
To keep inhaling and exhaling
In spite of the imminent end.
The end of my comfort.
The end of lies.
The end of what padded me
From the fact that I have never
And will never be
In control.
My survival salts the flavor
Of every grasping second
With my will to make it.
I must make it.
I must.. just... make it.
How am I still here?
How has it not killed me?
I don’t know, but since I am, I must find a way.
And every fiber
Of every muscle
In my body
Coils
Ready to spring
With what it takes
To find a way.
Survival is exactly here. Now. This.
And it will show me
Who I am
When every luxurious dream of more
Has been stripped away
To bare life force.
Disrupting death
While succumbing to it.
_______
