I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love
The idea of company sounds great
Family, friends, soulmates
I love the silence
Now some chatter feels good
I’ve changed
I long for company

a new tradition
passing the old house there
we slow

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

A good morning
Is feeling your
Small sticky hand
Wrap around two of my fingers
Telling me you missed me while you slept.

My smile gets bigger
My laugh sounds louder
My heart beats faster
My eyes grow wider
My stomach gets more nervous
And I wouldn't change it for the world

We would collect
the wrecked
And broken toys.
The unspoken for toys,
That no one cared about anymore.

Each year on that day,
they were shipped and sent away.
Where did they exactly go?
I finally wanted to know.

I told dad these damaged toys sound like my brother Jimmy who was also wrecked and broken.
He couldn't control himself in his child like ways, was full of anger and ill spoken.

Where did you send my brother Jimmy to, was he really so bad?
Where has he gone to my brother Jimmy, where did you send him dad?

"Son, I'll be honest. Your brother Jimmy now lives with the other troubled boys...on the ISLAND OF BROKEN TOYS"!