TURNING 30

i came into life crying, shaking fists at the bright lights, clenched fright at the wild sounds muffled no more but naked as me, a carnival of flesh and compassion and madness and computer buzzing brains thousands of miles, every direction electric lines, signatures of destiny.

30 years old in a week, i will not go in crying or violent or whining because i am a man, deeply flawed, fucked in the head, fantastic in imagination, organs desensitized to life, in love, laughing at even the worst jokes and letting the tears flow at the most mundanely divine, beautifully worthless moments that drag by on slime.