Safety.

Watching seventies exploitation films.

Thinking about weeks and days.

Arid.

Thinking about work in the morning.

Nothing is ideal.

I just want to fuck and smile.

Have a drink or two.

Or three.

Pam Grier kills a motherfucker.

I lie silently in my peaceful apartment.

Maybe a car drives by.

Maybe a teenager walks down the road and laughs loudly.

I want some fucking danger.

Some hope.

Give me some fucking hope, humans.

Give me some fucking hope, life.

Give me some fucking danger, mother fucker.