It’s not as if life hasn’t attempted to derail itself before.

Ascolta. Listen. Escucha.

It’s not as if life hasn’t attempted to derail itself before. Life hates life. Life loves life. Life is the apothecary of life. It smells. Like shit sometimes. Like poison lilac scent. For newborns. Or newcars. Or whateveryourheartdesires.

Remember the system you’re in. Please play along. On giving it away. For free. In the face of the market. In the face of personal and communal debt. In the face of The Idea of Debt. I’m giving it away. Pull it from your gut. Or your most prized artery. Or your expired tropical memories.

Pull it from the grip of the emergency brake. Push back into it a full human. Eager to play. The game. Even if every breath is a toss-up. Life and Life and Life but Death. We are standard in the hollows of thunder. We are solemn and re·sus·ci·tated. Reciprocated. Evaporated. Emancipated from rest.

Elizabeth Mariani

May 14th, 2016

* Written at a reasonable distance from a fresh water lake.
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