fight back

life is trying to kill you.
that's the promise it makes you as soon as you pop out of the bellybutton installation factory assembly line.
your days are numbered.
the secret destiny board of the universal planagram stratagem are determining the kind of life and death you can expect.
and you can expect to be brutally, painfully underimpressed.
let it ride, go with the flow, flicker, falter and extinguish...
smoke rings...
OR,
you can battle back for every waking minute.
unless you've got a date book with an inked-in check-out date, a reservation for one on the River Styxx dinner cruise, then you need to live like today is the day. it just might be.
the vaya con dios Valhalla vacation. the long kiss goodnight.
every day is the last day, as far as you know.
make some better choices, ya'll.
tempt fate. force a recall.
if fortune favors the bold, then be bold.

fight life for the right to rewrite history in the present tense and prevent predetermined weak-sauce repetition.
be present. be tense. be dope.
turn down the treble on the tepid teapot of triteness in your heart, and rather
bump the bass-boosted battle beats, hot and fiery, temeritous, tempestous, terrible and beautiful. 
make it all worthwhile. 
be alive. 
trial by combat, ya'll. fight life to the death, no quarter asked, and none given.
don't expect any survivors, either....
  
choose wisely, choose the wrench, and choose the manner in which you check in and out of the moments which make up the monuments in memory marking your minutes making the magic happen.
seriously.
just be dope.
it just may be the last thing you do.

harder is smarter, mofo. 
byth tawelwch, byth llaith.