On the precipice of my fifth year of living with, not dying from metastatic cancer, I regard my life as a lucky one. No crazed busses have hit me, no falling airplane debris bonked me on the head, no Acme holes swallowed me up (a la Wile E. Coyote trying to capture the turbocharged Road
Learning to love myself and understanding on a deeper level what gratitude truly means came to me with a very high price tag. However, if my life and my legacy helps in any way my peers and those who will unfortunately be diagnosed after I’m long gone, then it’s a life well lived.
Expressing the greedy silence A picture’s worth of words Swallowed whole by memory’s avarice. Wishing wells charge five cents for Lies it disguises as your dreams and Sells for a penny a dozen accidents. Ascending into the ravenous night, Darkness craves sleepers who whisper Hungry with the first sun’s frowning light. Handmade gifts thoughtfully cost