people are fucking crazy.
the lucky ones still hurt.
tonight it hurts.
i’m one big heaping ball of raw.
not even the music comforts me.
some people preach health.
some people preach light,
love, vision, or rebellion.
about two weeks ago while
driving down sunset i saw
this guy hunched over with
his left arm dangling about
to crumble.
he was wearing gym shorts.
clean but not clean enough.
i thought about flipping a
bitch to see if his heart
was bursting.
two weeks later i’m still thinking
about him.
tonight, i drink with intention.
tonight, i drink to sleep.
there is no forgetting.
i am not confused.
i miss my sister.
i miss the boy.
i miss the seahorses
and christmas lights.
i miss my friend who used to listen.
there is no resistance.
*
i just saw a guy walk by all
dressed in black and watched
him knock on my neighbors
door and tell him to collect
his personal property.
i listened to his feet squish on
the gravel and thought about
helping him but took off my
shirt, picked up this pen and
cracked a beer.
the music is classical.
i feel like a parody.
crack the book.
crack the pill.
crack the root
and eat the truth
that lives in the jungle.
it hurts.
there is no resistance.
transmit my position.
i am hope.
i am parody.
this is not depression,
sadness or despair.
this is hurt.
it is conjoined to time.
it will pass.
perhaps at x:23 a.m.
come here and sit without
proximity.
shut the fuck up and pray
with me.
there is no end to nothing.
make no mistake.
i am fearless.
i remember when the lady broke
my window with bubble bath.
where is kate?
where is karen?
classical music and a can.
i am fearless.
i am parody.
i am sorry for misfortune.
this one will end abruptly.
that man may be dead.
that whoever got his car
repossessed.
and i want more,
dig deep and search
self possessed.
i listen more.
this is the song of paul revere.
hurt is encouraging.
now, i’m done and going to go
into the bathroom and look
at myself in the mirror
and
marvel.
1:09 a.m.
2.5.09
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