I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

I feel,
Like the space between breaths.
Neither here,
Nor there.
Not living,
And not dead.
I'm not lost,
But I'm not found.
I'm just,
There.
Existing,
But not doing,
Or achieving
Anything.

It hit the pressure point,
**** shocked electric joints,
Finger flounder, a  weapon,
Cold recoiling aggression.

Regretful revenge,
Hmm, still not really cleansed.
The concentrated intents
Odd refractions been bent.

No, you're wrong.

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

Particularly at lunch
in a laughing restaurant

Everyone is as beautiful
as they can possibly be

And they are moved
by their own beauty

And they shed tears for it
in the back of the taxi home

there are worse things than
being alone
but it often takes decades
to realize this
and most often
when you do
it's too late
and there's nothing worse
than
too late.