Paul Walker
drove past
                                                            ­     *fast

you're so
beautiful
with your
kitty shirt

my heart is
what's for dinner
my soul soon
your dessert

begging
you to
infect me

begging
for disease

smiling,
broken down

loving
corpse at your feet

a lady lights a cigarette
glowing red cherry
lips, puffing without
regret
a cigarette, burning
smoking, grey breathing
choking and
tap tap the
falling ashes

it is over with
a definitive flick —
a lady lights a cigarette
she can see her spirit
dancing in the smoke

Please don't tell me I'm
Everything
That I deserve happiness because
That's all I've given
You

You tell me you are
Nothing
And if everything in my
Heart is every bit of
You

Then I am nothing too.

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.

against the wall, the firing squad ready.
then he got a reprieve.
suppose they had shot Dostoevsky?
before he wrote all that?
I suppose it wouldn't have
mattered
not directly.
there are billions of people who have
never read him and never
will.
but as a young man I know that he
got me through the factories,
past the ******,
lifted me high through the night
and put me down
in a better
place.
even while in the bar
drinking with the other
derelicts,
I was glad they gave Dostoevsky a
reprieve,
it gave me one,
allowed me to look directly at those
rancid faces
in my world,
death pointing its finger,
I held fast,
an immaculate drunk
sharing the stinking dark with
my
brothers.