Entered in the place
Sometime around
No time

My voice had gone
And there was a leak of
Green mold in the wall
And across the hall
I could hear the screams of
Either passion or
Real pain

Outside the trams
Roared past &
The way they whined
Sounded like a young dog
Screaming or a little
Girl whining -

The sound
Woke me up
For the first
Month.

But the Autumn smell
Warm with eggs, beer & pasta sauce
Started to fill up the place
And slowly it all
Started to feel
Like the temporary home
It was meant to be

And when your supposed
To settle down in
One place you see that
You were never meant to
Be that kind of person because
It drives you mad seeing
The same four walls everyday
In and out down the chute made
Of concrete, electricity & will power

How do people do it
For so long
Without going insane?

I don't know

I hope to never know

Or maybe I already have,
And I don't know it...

Perhaps
I'm already
On the other side
Of that

Crazy River.

Soon
The place started to
Fill up with things
That looked the same
As what was in my brain;
Things that kept me alive
And kept me awake and
Steadied my brain from
Tilting to far to the right or
The left or front to back

Then the windows
Started opening
Cool fresh air coming in
Like a rushing stream
From a place I knew as
"Nowhere"

Drunks outside
Passing in the night
Me one them
Some of the time &
Me - an observer -
The other times

But

As I watched I saw
Little bits of me in them
More and more and
I started to re-evaluate what
Kind of night stalker
I wanted to be

These walkers - some at least -
Can't crane to see the stars
Or hear the way the tram passes by them
Much like
The young ladies in the tight
Jeans with their heels clicking and
Their lips licking just so
Gentle & evil like they always
Seem to do

I was at
A loss of everything
As I watched myself
Wander to the next
Hole that would
Never be my or
Their last.

At quite a loss.

Losing is winning
And winning is losing
When you go right
You also go left

There is no escaping
This mad
Crippling
Self-obsessed readers digest
Crazed, murderous, treacherous &
*** blistering place

We are here standing
On the brink of
Digital beauty,
Sharing all and being all
And seeing pictures
That people in the past
Would never get to see or imagine
Simply because of this
****** little machine in front of me.

The trade off

From one generation

To

The next.