MAKING LOVE TO LIFE AND FUCKING DEATH

With death comes life. It is a question that remains the only honest answer we ask and gets a response to. There is only truth within the end because it is the only thing that remains on earth with beauty, you ask dear sir, what about life? It also remains real.

We can go back in forth in debate. All I ask is which one do you fear the most, which one wants to make you feel like yourself when you breathe this steal air trying so hard for others not to care? Which one is the one that scares the shit out of you the most?

I am thinking again, but not like I used to, because I know that there is so much more that I need to do both life and death are chasing this rebel, this dreamer, this now the most vivid version of me down a surrealist highway.

I am seeing so much more of them both with my eyes wide open in amazement, and my mind for once left speechless I have so much lust for them because they have been known and unknown for so long.

What do I say to them when I want to shake their hands and kiss their lips, I only want to make sweet love to life and have angry sex with death because it is the best deserving f*ck.