The thing is gone. I’m alive

The moment wants noise, screaming

Running leaping, rolling after falling

laying in wetness back to the ground face to the sky

shouting Yes! Yes! Yes!

The thing is gone.

Grey and white in the photos; fitting.

That thing they found and cut out leaving a hole

It was dead.

I no longer feel dead.

It is a time for color. And rain, And one long screaming, obnoxious running fucking celebration because it is, it is, it is.

Roses offer life, open wet with dew and turn to the sun.

The pollen sticky on your fingers.

This taste of life, red and yellow petals  

Drip on tanned shoulders.

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