This is Good

I know that life will keep knocking me down again and again. And each time I’ll get up, dust myself off, and tend to my wounds. Then I’ll say in my snarkiest tone, “Nice try, Life. Is that the best you can do?”

I don’t want to reach my grave in pristine “like new” condition. I won’t die with my music still in me. When the coroner checks my dead body, I want him to say, “Damn… what the hell did he do to this thing?”

Polyamory