Yeah.
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categories = ["poetic"]
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tags = ["fire"]
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date = "2022-04-08T00:10:00.000Z"
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layout = "post"
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title = "Phoenix, Motherfucker"
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description = "I'm immortal. You don't want to be."
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[[resources]]
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name = "header thumbnail"
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src = "**esther-ann-nzftJsNv_GA-unsplash*"
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[resources.params]
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[resources.params.meta]
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creator = "Esther Ann"
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license = "https://unsplash.com/license"
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sameAs = "https://unsplash.com/photos/nzftJsNv_GA"
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Think of a sickly, wounded bird. Faded grey.
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Then think of a fire licking up around it. A funeral pyre and also a celebration of (re)birth.
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A phoenix must die to rise. To be renewed. Consumed [in flame](/post/2021/12/newflame/) that does not hurt but heals. I like the way it burns.
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Partly because of [the great sieve I have in place of a brain](post/2018/01/some-things-stick/) I am immortal. I am a phoenix, motherfucker. If you want to beat me down, you're going to need a bigger stick. And more patience than there are stars in the sky.
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I live moment by moment. Breath by breath. Pain doesn't stick, but pleasure doesn't either. It's a different way to live, as unimaginable to you as the fact I have no minds eye (If you *can* imagine, reach out. We can be alone together). I rage against the dying of the light, yet there is nothing I can do.
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I must move forwards, because stillness is death. An endless restlessness that I wish on no one.
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I am not as I was. I shall not be as I am. Blink by blink I change faster than I can keep up with. Someday, perhaps I will find an iteration of myself I don't vehemently hate.
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Hate me? I empathise. (Oh to be able to turn these pretty/twisted words into song...)
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