no, i can't appreciate your picture;

talking to a drug
like it's some old
idiot friend.

no. i haven't felt the withdrawls lately
no. it is a shock.
i am absolutely taken back.
when i'm there
facing myself
and i will myself to
write the words
in absolute plain
in absolute front of me.
un
av
oid
able.

to me,
it's still a little bright.

i want to be able to say, "when
we were lovers..."
because, trust me.
i haven't talked about it; you,
or the damn withdrawls.

i'm happy i'm so foolish.
i'm so lost.
and! blisshook self-abandonment:
now i've got to come find you
somewhere
up there
in the brilliantine sky.

i am looking for something
but, obviously, i
do not know
what for.

i paused in conversation.
i thought of many things to say.
and, keeping silent, i:
aren't you inspired?
how could you not
be inspired
right
now?
i feel extroveted. and
inspired.
i'm sorry, but i feel compelled
to ask you
a hateful question:
are you
happy?

man,
i just
want
to talk.

curious that i'm different
but haven't changed.
curious that
i think everybody
should know better
and that simply
i should know.
curious at noon-just-passed
i had my evening cigarette.
and curious that my soul
really is
still in me.

bloody
curious,
how i've changed
but don't feel different.

so,
talking
and blantant irritant
of sound function:
talking
to an old drug
like it's a friend.

hello,
friend.

i know, i say hello a lot
i mean it every time.

i feel so static and peaceful
how was i so full of angst by word
though not intention.

i feel raw and untangled
i'm turning to the meditative clear... hello!