Baby its a new day

It's a new day baby, it's a monsoon morning. The desert marsupials are scratching wildly across the roof and the sun is bright and i'm just waking up.

I can smell the breast I can see the dried up blood and the sheets need a wash and I'm hungry for a change. Come on, quicken the movement of disintegration. Keep my thoughts clean and focused. I'm ready for the reversal of cancer to be reversed. It's over and I can take it. I can take the visual of an empty right side chest. I can take the wound healing up and the scar tightening all the skin. I know I will supersede the fear and melancholia of that sight.

Melancholia, a disease in itself. What's there to be so fucking sad about when you know you are living on and on and that nothing, absolutely nothing can or will take your life? Imagine the rest there. The joy. The strength and capacity to direct how and where to go.

Being a person ready to never die is a huge experience. It means going against the grain of the world as we know it. The world that says, death is inevitable, don't get too alive, don't expect too much, people always let you down, stay independent, don't trust, get what you can, hope you can make a few friends and when your time comes, well, just accept it.

But I've already faced death don't you see? It's nothing to me.

And my body and your body is everything. My streets of gold, my endless, cloudless heaven. Physical and moving, playing and working, sleeping and exercising, laughing.

This breast that was ruined shocked me. I finally see the results of all that self abuse. That attitude of couldn't care less. Yeah, smoke those indonesian cigarettes, let the clove oil drip into my lungs, yeah roll another joint let that tar seep into my blood stream. Yeah go on, work in the sex industry selling your body for money, yeah so, the men love groping your breasts and you hate it? Forget it, just live through it, you know there's a joint waiting for you at the end of the session and if you can just bring yourself to smile a bit and look into his eyes, you never know, he may even tip you.

Yeah, yell and scream at that man who loves you, yeah go on, stay with him even though you know you shouldn't, keep on working in the industry even though it hurts him, keep lying to your family about what you really do for money, keep turning up at your mum's house stoned out of your brain because you haven't got the guts to face what you're really feeling.

It's all that shit that past that way of deadly life.

And I'm through with it, I have the guts now, I care who touches me, I want to live and be healthy, I don't think I'm not worth it, and I don't think it's cool to risk everything of myself on shallow, dangerous things.

I have people who feel the same way, people who want to live and outsmart death, and together, we're doing it.

What chance does 'cancer' have in this environment?