roadieshow

Why do we love when we know we should run,
leaving fortifications in our wake to protect our soft underbellies?
Why do our hearts gravitate towards pain
like suicidal moths to the incredibly obvious death-by-campfire result
of flying too closely to the searing hot energy of affection, devotion and desire?

Shall we refrain, starving the flame?
Shall we sustain, feeding the same
fire that burns our outsides and cooks our ins?

Do we call for the fire brigade of friendly advice,
dousing the roaring torrent with buckets full of logic?
Hoses full of reason,
trucks loaded to the top with gallons of examples
miles of counsel wrapped and stacked,
ready to unravel.

Do we recognize the underlying motives
laying off in the not-so-distant ulterior?
Do we euthanize the sparks before they ignite,
burning painfully bright with piercing light
despite freezing without their warmth,
starving without their hospitality
and drowning without their encouragement to move forward,
climb up,
and float to the very top?

Im not sure.

LET'S GET FUCKED UP AND SACRIFICE NAKED GIRLS AT MY NEW YEAR'S EVE EXTRAVAGANZA!