You don't cry anymore.

So used to you is the sickness that is sadness

that tears don't fall anymore;

Eyes only cloud

and fingers only pick at each other

and as the monotonous drive drags on and on

you see the tough concrete wall and think,

"It wouldn't be the worst way to go.

Would be quick."

But you never quite do it

because you have parents you need to impress

and mothers to buy houses for

and most of all

you don't cry anymore

so it can't be that bad.

"--you know, I've either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I've sold my house, I've found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I'm going to have a place and
the time to
create."
no baby, if you're going to create
you're going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you're going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you're on
welfare,
you're going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you're going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you're going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquakes, bombardment,
flood and fire.
baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don't create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.