suffer to find suffering

oh my.
this time it was my tongue
that spoke: thumb to the road!
and we stretch out; i imagine
my dresscode and
my every mannerism
to see me as a worldly Dividual.

my gut is rotting. i have half-drawn
and mostly felt
the comfort of rhapsody, though the feeling
was deranging up to my goddamn
clasped hands.

i realize how impotent i am
with an idea.
that humanly i feel
unkind with this confession:
at the impulse, i must leave.

the girls get undressed and i
recline in my seat.
i put my hands at rest
in comfort
at a cross behind my neck.
i SEARCH OUT.
the view from is spectacular.

a man with the sky in his head
talked to us about a circle
and the locals we met on our mission
talked naturally of seeing
flying ships.

the great northern desert
has taken me again.
in my past i have been left,
i have said goodbye and othertimes
i have just fled.

how may i tame the electricity
between the palms of my hands
and expel it at my own discord?

i can count visable crackpipes with the help of my other hand

they shove objects
most of which i'd assume
were dirt rejected shit
from the ground: source of fire
cellophane of some sort
the stash of butts
trampled underfoot junky
to junky
i swear,
the orifices of their ragged cloth is in
constant stimuli:
pockets are habitus to these people.
by their engulfing presence
they intoxicate the streets
they cut the air as they stake,
replaying their burnt movements
like broken
social
scene.

fulfillment here is
the savage at wander on temple grounds.

they possess Revelation in their clumsy step
moving forth to backward-down,
honestly, the energy left in their minds
can only let them jerk
only the erection of twitch
may travel them--as if
they can feel their giant steps as
corrupting tracks in the wetness of earth
and their damp souls feeding the spirit
through awful experience.

this damp suits the ocean of filth.
independent pharmacy haven.

the police do nothing.

i've been disgusted with a lover i can fully be
infatuated
with the knowledge of presence
of being
HERE
and knowing
THIS EXISTENCE.

this is i on the freakshow 20
on my 38th day of homelessness.
i come in observance of the streets.
i thrive for the realities
they conceive to me.

something to get me kicking again

one in the group is a korean
but he grew up the Mother South of Us
and acts completely in rhythm with these spanish guys.

its a typical night here.
there's a stranger, theres a stirring sky
of rolling r's in the room.
me&fuzzie are playing getting-drunk video games.
(note that i simply accept this form of activity for the extremely
short era it will be in my life)

i call for compassion.
not from the game but
from a group
of kind, modern minds.

this guy has a plane ticket and load.
he's leaving for the airport.
he's walking out the door after all the animated
goodbyes
just as a member shows.

everyone in the room immediately energizes
we gather and joke that he shoould eat a magic cookie
on the plane.

we make our selections.

he returns with a ripped up plane ticket
and a mad blushing smile.

NO. I AM STAYING! says he
in a tone of childish composure,
with fully evolved pride
and a nothing-to-loose conclusion.
my soul brightens that i've witnessed this.

i pack a bowl
and send it his way for dubs.

he leaves the house within minutes
without baggage.
i express my confusion
i am told, "cerveza"
(alcohol)