there are many things that will hold a man tense
with his art.

the usual grievances like lust, love or no love.

the following loneliness
then wanting to be alone instead.

a man lets go of the past he can't control,
learns from it and finds a way to moves forward.

small grievances don't seem to affect me
anymore, but I've also learned to become more indifferent.

it's a strange thing when you no longer have feelings.

something could die in front of you like a small dog or a fly
and you wouldn't feel a thing.

tonight was a rainy night,
but when I went outside for a walk it was lightly sprinkling.

you hear an old man yelling at a couple of dykes
outside the kensington theater,
but you walk by as invisible to them as they are to you.

being invisible,
that's what I've become.

-

I walk across the kensington bridge
and I see a couple holding hands,
they're both wearing matching beanies.

the cars are all driving by slowly,
nobody seems to be in a hurry to go anywhere.

the world is frozen.

their is no grief about being lonely anymore.
there is nothing left for death to take away
so I live instead.

small flashes of light like thunder
bolts in my head.
there are my favorite writers and
sufferers alike who have experienced more.