Walking with Death

I realize more and more that everything I've done, every job, every dark alley, every night of love or pain every day in every city, farm field or freeway . . . all of it

a pursuit of some type of relationship to Death; stories always about how to live knowing you'd die someday -- a theme that walked close by to me maybe more than most, certainly kicked down by seeing my father die right in front of me when I was 22, seeing my beautiful little baby delivered stillborn in themiddle of the night

seeing my hott 22 year old girl friend go into the student health clinic, with a "stomach virus", only to be rushed off to a hospital with terminal leukemia

every event a shattering of multiple lives, but most assuredly a shattering of my own

always death whispering something; being a psychic, especially one so focused on "past lives" (death's second or third or more "act")

even being an actor . . . or poet or any of the other mad pursuits to meld words and structure into "something"
it's all about making up a palatable story about Death

and, seeing IT standing there, knowing how to

. . . live
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‪#‎mytruth‬