good morning...

5 a.m. World’s out cold. Dreaming. Silent. I’m up—barefoot, tattooed. 

Alive. The kind of alive that smiles cause it shouldn't be. Crashes. Long rides. Nights I shouldn’t have survived. Wild years. 

Joints snap like dry twigs. Spine creaks. Old pain, familiar. Worm in. Etched into the skin, under the ink.

My body—map of mistakes. Masterpieces. Bad decisions. Dumb luck. Some good. Pain. Breathe. Smile. It stays. A medal. Like armor.

My old-money green sweatsuit. Fold it. Cold breath and blood running hot.

Outside. My BlueCube. 37 degrees. Ice hums low, waiting. Still, deep. She’s hungry. My ritual. Step in. Breath gone. Skin burns. Three minutes. Maybe forever.

Calm. Breath. Cold. Skin tightens. Heart slows. Thoughts scatter. Some stay.

The start the day. Discomfort, confrontation, comfort. 

First break. Birds moving. Sky gold at the edges. Sunrise. Best time, heaven, the world hasn’t figured it out yet.

Fuck aging.

Sunrise, I love the morning. 

-josh