Chapter Text
tonight i’m playing against death and i intend to win. so i dance to the metronome of a time bomb
because stillness is how death wins and because retreat is another name for surrender.
now, for once the world spins because i make it,
& for once someone/something is clapping for me:
this wayward
this delusional fool
this miracle of motion
And somehow i am the only one standing in this ovation-
an ovation
for what has not yet come
for the bright streaks of colour and warmth erupting from a
paintbrush wired to a stopwatch
don’t leave yet though because
i’ve written a new choreography for the ending
and the ticking continues
ticking as fingers hammer Schubert’s impromptu into
an otherwise empty room
the same rhythm that argues warm blood into
an otherwise dead body
laughing at the clock as if time was applause