No sign to stay.
In her brain.
I’ll stand on the chance with nothing to say.
Stand in the blue.
Slow with care.
Shallow.
Intimate.
Light tremallo.
Waves to ease in.
Never monotonous.
Always Grimm.
And sullen.
With embers and trauma.
Cast out into a French corner store.
Where she had stood.
Selling paintings.
Coffee.
Basket house.
Cafe.
Such a muse she was.
At night.
Abandonments.
Outcasts.
Displacements.
Said their words.
Crying inside.
Healing wounds.
Her turn.
And that smile gave me everything to know.

Streets.
Light poles.
Potholes.
Distortion.
Something to be proud of.
Truth to be lies.
Someone.
Please someone.
Standing in back alley.
Collecting runoff water from gutter above.
At 4 it gets dark.
Ride bicycle around.
No one around.
Lay in the street as rain floats to my face from above.
The clouds are strangers.
But the mist has won.
And i’m here all alone.
In the street.
Going past the pop-art store.
The windows turn.
The atoms twist.
My eyes hug the sky.
Wandering the confines of my brain.
Searching.
For her I cannot promise to hide.
And like the calmness over the air.
I fall one again.

Love holding soul spirit.
No way out alive.
Terrified.
Only until dawn we can run away.
Hold you in my arms.
Corner of brain to wallow in.
Willows weeping.
Time is what we live in.
As everyday was the last.
The End.
Pictures to haunt for.
7 miles.
To town.
These fields we divide.
Never.
Inside we must Live.
Live.
Beautiful Friend.
Only Friend.
Hold my realm of love.
Kiss it with solace.
Tangled in sheets.
Shy and delicate.
For the order of disorder.
I tell to *******.
Is eroding.
And we’re in the lagoon.
Just Floating.
We become the dwellers of our pleasure.

Lost.
It’s pleasing.
Take it.
E.
E.
Ez.
Breeze is nice up here.
The dust must conjure.
The emotions ride.
Arrive from biscuit town.
Say hello to the scarecrow.
His ma works for a blues musician.
She is the blues musician.
His brother knows everything about Trump.
Even when he *****.
His sister loves Bruce Lee.
Or at least the aesthetic of him.
Bigfoot shot himself back in time.
To meet Jack Kerouac.
When he got there he learned that Jack was captured by the Yakuza.
He did nothing and went home.
Mr. Scarecrow was bigfoot.
A little girl told him that he was going to die alone.
That he wouldn’t mind the pain.
That everything he changed wouldn’t work.
It would all just be the same.
Don’t fall in love the little girl said to him.
What the hell does she know.
She’s 10 years young.
But i’m stuck here with Arthur Russell material.
Echoing a voice to the world.
Hoping to mean something.
Listen for a call back.
Peace within.
Call back.
Please call back.
I’ll stand of frozen bridges while they melt.
Then dive head first into the water.
Sink.
Sink.

Sink to the lowest point of my existence.

Blood from the private places.
No time to talk.
Only lay on the floor in tears.
No strength to get water.
Dive off into a city of lights.
Fade away from the strums of life that moved forward.
Away from the normal things.
We wash down.
Erode.
Or evolve into something more.
And less.
The kids have their friendships and relationships.
Pre-adulthood ***.
While I turn the keys of the world.
Trying to create my own.
No desire for wants.
No real one anyways.
I forgot what another person felt like.
I only sit here to say things because I feel like I have to.
Or maybe because I need to.
Why do we do anything.
Because we can.
I try hard to stop the burning when I close my eyes.
The seas of my priorities make lakes and ponds.
Streams and rivers.
Made the mountains.
The deserts.
The grass and trees.
The worlds beyond my mind.
The touch of skin.
Of a hand, arm or neck.
I don’t think I’ll be here too long.
Not long enough I guess.
For the silence in my ear has faded
Being alone is nothing new
But it’s good to have company.
Good for the soul.
I make my own gravity to pull myself down.
And my own rockets to send me away.
There are no second thoughts.
I wonder if i’ll be missed.
Because the silence in my ear sure won't.

Throw jewelry away.
Live in the woods.
Maybe a cabin.
Smoke a cigar every seven days.
Befriend the animals.
Drink moonshine three days a month.
Play the harmonica.
Meet a human in town.
Sing with squirrels.
Make sweaters.
Build a basement.
Hug the trees.
Kiss someone.
Talk to yourself.
Cry on a canoe in the middle of the lake at night.
Listen to Bob Dylan.
Read Poetry By Jim Morrison.
Make arts and craft projects.
Sketch a chair.
Then sit in it.
Play the guitar.
Make a bonfire.
But don’t burn down the trees.
Taste different spices.
Taste other peoples spices.
Sleep on the ground.
Get *****.
Stand out in the rain.
**** your own fears.
Nit blankets.
Save minerals
Smile.
Frown.
Do acid.
Warm up the air.
Shout.
Punch the ground.
Make cereal.
Eat pine cones.
Watch the trees sway.

Sing softly in bed.
Stay in bed.
For you might not see her again.