I Live

I live
For the light bulbs that pop
On half-drunken summer nights
Adrenaline rising like gas from my gut
Spilling out of fingers onto the canvas of my soul

I live
For the pinpoint-tip drop
Of clusters of rust-worn knives
Wrapped in blood-soaked papers of rejection
For I know each stake only made Dracula stronger

I live
For the days that stop
When sun and stars align bright
And the clock tower chimes in the distance
Book in hand as I waltz through dream or reality

I live
For the dark mop
Nestled on the head of a little tyke
His smile more radiant than I can see
Empty page he offers as he calls my name

I live
In, for and by moments such as these
And it is through such moments, that I say
I live


One thought on “I Live

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