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Searching
is the self
in not being.
The whole world
  is alert and awake
  everywhere the virus lurks
  people self-protect for their own sake-

  even the slothful
  their inertia they break
  their survival sense
sharpens-  room they make

for contingencies
lest it be too late
they line up early
in front of the supermarket-gate-

life is too precious to neglect
for rich or poor, lowly or great
to forget the woes of living
some poetry I try to create.
Fear is the surrender
the loss of control
the never reconciler
nothing breaks its stronghold
Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker stood by the side of the road
And leveled his thumb
In the calm calculus of reason.

Hi. How you doin’?

I just got back into town,

L.A.

I was out in the desert for awhile

“Riders on the storm”

Yeah. In the middle of it

“Riders on the storm”

Right…

“Into this world we’re born”

Hey, listen, man, I really got a problem

“Into this world we’re thrown”

When I was out on the desert, ya know

“Like a dog without a bone
An actor out on loan”

I don’t know how to tell you

“Riders on the storm”

but, ah, I killed somebody

“There’s a killer on the road”

No…

“His brain is squirming like a toad”

It’s no big deal, ya know

I don’t think anybody will find out about it, but…

“take a long holiday”

just, ah…

“Let your children play”

this guy gave me a ride, and ah…

“If you give this man a ride”

started giving me a lot of trouble

“Sweet family will die”

and I just couldn’t take it, ya know

“Killer on the road”

And I wasted him

Yeah.
As a child, I said hello to poetry;
but I did not know that it would
become my ultimate adult therapy.
You were my sunset.
Beautiful, but also sad,
For that meant goodbye.
Far more captivating than any sunset i have seen with my own two eyes
Loneliness is me,
overdosing on my own
company again.
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