Ramen and Strength

I’m in love because I am a lover, avoiding conflict because I was picked to be a fighter.
I am the inferno at full strength escaping plastic lighters, authoring atrocity at breakneck velocity;

the Geiger counter autonomously spiking reality’s radiation.

If a life is a race to the top, my book must be read upside down because rock bottom calls to me in impossibly romantic tones.

In this symphony of disconnected phones and jabberwocky word magnets, I found the ultimate pragmatism, three flavours of ramen all the schisms my future requires to sustain the fires I

consistently provoke.

If I’m going to die rich, let it be with ideas, because money can’t buy imagination.

If I’m gonna be worth something, let it be broken down and divvied into something worth finishing, a narrative you would never see end.

Only then will I be content.

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