Lost.
It’s pleasing.
Take it.
E.
E.
Ez.
Breeze is nice up here.
The dust must conjure.
The emotions ride.
Arrive from biscuit town.
Say hello to the scarecrow.
His ma works for a blues musician.
She is the blues musician.
His brother knows everything about Trump.
Even when he *****.
His sister loves Bruce Lee.
Or at least the aesthetic of him.
Bigfoot shot himself back in time.
To meet Jack Kerouac.
When he got there he learned that Jack was captured by the Yakuza.
He did nothing and went home.
Mr. Scarecrow was bigfoot.
A little girl told him that he was going to die alone.
That he wouldn’t mind the pain.
That everything he changed wouldn’t work.
It would all just be the same.
Don’t fall in love the little girl said to him.
What the hell does she know.
She’s 10 years young.
But i’m stuck here with Arthur Russell material.
Echoing a voice to the world.
Hoping to mean something.
Listen for a call back.
Peace within.
Call back.
Please call back.
I’ll stand of frozen bridges while they melt.
Then dive head first into the water.
Sink.
Sink.

Sink to the lowest point of my existence.