Anything Less Is A Lie (An Essay)
My hands shook when I sent her the number for our call ($25,000).
An unexpected but completely accurate number for her and I.
A number I didn’t think my way to.
I just knew in a moment.
It’s this or nothing.
Anything less (or more) — a lie.
A lie that would soften the edge of ME.
And I’d rather die than do such a thing.
She could take it or leave it.
That wasn’t the point.
Nor was the amount I chose.
I’m here to ride my edge all the fucking way,
and see how far I go.
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