Maybe I'll wake you up and
ask you to drive me around
Windows down
music blaring.

We'll play Beatles
Or Firehouse
Or The Smith
Classic rock bands.

We'll sing
and live our lives
and make this world adore us.
I would love this.

And I would do this
I'd like to do this
It is almost 4 in the morning and
I'm wishing, really really hard,

I'm wishing for something to fall
that will enable me
to love you again.

You still don't get it, do you?
I don't like your godly love
Or godly flowers
Or godly proposals
Or godly weddings.

*******
I don't like anything that is
godly.

Call me in the middle of the night
at 3 AM, perhaps
call me and talk to me about
your dreams and nightmares
and fears and dreams back again.
Introduce me to your demons.

I would love that.

And I also say yes --
when old fellas ask me out.

But I wouldn't be there, no.
We've ran out of conversations.
We've exhausted authenticity.
We're all like hostages confined in a room
and forced to be cordial
and nice for an hour or two.

Funny --
I've just ended certain friendships tonight

With more or less 10 people.
No, I did not just disappear.
I gave them my closure.
I told them that they
at least
deserve that.

And --
thanked them for the years we've been through.

I'm concluding any relationship in my life
that lacks profundity.
Come second week of April and
I will have few friends left.
Few, yes.
But genuine nonetheless.
And that's sufficient to make this life worth living.

I guess this is it --
we're all ghost stories in the end.

I was exhausted and
you could have been my comfort
but you chose not to notice me.

You're all shadows and
I'm all secrets, and
after all our ***** and egos,

beneath our clothes and bodies,
we must have unearthed
our hidden contempt.