If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside on my fingertips and at brain edges and in centers centers of what I am of what remains.

I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I didn't have a god, politics, ideas, ideals.

I once lay in a white hospital for the dying and the dying self, where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die, where on my knees I prayed for LIGHT, I prayed for l*i*g*h*t, and praying crawled like a blind slug into the web where threads of wind stuck against my mind and I died of pity for Man, for myself, on a cross without nails, watching in fear as the pig belches in his sty, farts, blinks and eats.

Sometimes I get too exhausted to even feel bad

I broke that town in half like a wooden match.

We are hardly ever as strong as that which we create.

I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.