nothing's news.
it's the same old thing in
disguise.
only one thing comes without a
disguise and you only see it
once, or
maybe never.
like getting hit by a freight
train.
makes us realize that all our
moaning about long lost girls
in gingham dresses
is not so important
after
all.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

I wasn’t lonely. I experienced no self-pity. I was just caught up in a life in which I could find no meaning.

‎"she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.

you fall into the mirror,
come through the other
side
staring at a lightbulb.

a pro does as well as he can within what
he has set out to do
and a madman
does exceptionally well at what
he can't help
doing.