I haven't been alive for two years now
I just sit and watch.
I wouldn't even know how to be a person if I tried.
I'll just watch.
I will work and sleep and drink heavily
Internally conversing with people too wonderful to really meet
In my mind forever, they'll die with me, how nice.
In the meantime
I'll keep looking.

He mentioned his mother was getting a hysterectomy
With all of the awkwardness and antsiness I would've expected
And understood absolutely completely
Because I've never had a childhood home
I've never even had a home
At least not in a place but in people I have
But if home is where you come from
Then you're forever homeless
From houses that can be sold
To organs that can be removed
None of us come from anywhere
And everything is subject to change
And terms and conditions
And where I live
The sky is too big.

My mind is no home because I can lose it
My body is no home because it can rot
And people can laugh and question God all they want
But the notion of home is the real ****** of the masses
And where I live
The sky is too big.

After the last call
And the subsequent lock-in
Of the second bar we'd hit
Where we'd sat doing shots
And talking Fitzgerald and Joyce
We took shelter from the downpour
Under the awning of a bodega
Out on Atlantic Avenue.

I clasped your head in my hands,
In emphasis of some joke just told
Before you passed me a poorly rolled cigarette
And I turned for a drag.

Exhaling, I felt your gaze
Penetrate through my lungs' fresh smoke
And fill me full-brimmed
Like a rush of blood.

You grabbed me then
Our faces wet with rain
And gave me the nicest kiss
I'd ever known.

Drawing away
You swore and ****** yourself
For your mistake.
I tried to ride your bike
But fell
My drunken feet entwined in the peddles.

When the rain had stopped
We sat on the hot concrete
And I tried to remember
A song that I wanted you to hear.

We pushed your bike
To the Nevins St. Subway stop
And you stood there
And watched
As I went underground
Before cycling home
Over Brooklyn Bridge.

Sitting outside there
In your shirt sleeves
With your coffee and your cigarette
Wearing those black Ray Bans
That I'd've hated on just about anybody else
You looked just like Jack Keroac.

I couldn't see your eyes
But I liked to think
That you were thinking
Thoughts and things that I couldn't even imagine.
That to you
The world was like one big tangled ball
Of Christmas lights
To sort through
And fix up a little.

When I turned
You were already gone
Your broad hand
Grasping that cigarette.

Someone sane.
Who doesn't care too much
Or not enough.
And who is just insane enough
To still be interesting.
But will stay
And won't project
Or invert.
Someone sane
Who isn't depressed
Or anxious
All the time
And who doesn't mind
When I'm depressed
Or anxious
Sometimes.
Someone sane
Who doesn't hate their father
And won't pass undue judgement
On mine.
Someone sane
Who will be honest when I ask
But will have the sense
To share
With sensitivity.
Someone sane
Who can make me laugh
And whom I can make laugh
Someone sane
Who knows the difference
Between treating someone
Like they're important
And reducing them
To a monolith
They feel they cannot climb.
Someone sane
Who trusts and can be trusted.
Someone sane
Someone sane.

Don't ******* write about me
No, neither for me
Because there is nothing worse
Nothing so utterly despicable
Than the words
Of an infatuated man.

You are not Yeats,
I am not Gonne.
And I like to think
That Laura never died
But rather escaped
From Petrach's lines.

Do not treat what I tell you
As some great epiphany
As anything other
Than the words of a fellow idiot.

All I want
Is to rest
Without
Being called
A ******* muse
Some fuel
For your abhorrent
Creations

That is not me.
You are not Yeats.
But I am gone.

I belong to a fractured consciousness
Whose needle skips and leaps
Relentlessly
Over the cracks.

In any instance,
I can see you
And her
Lithe and writhing
In all her voluptuous vapidness.

Drive on, drive on!
Rock, and reel, and repent.
Repeat.

He's not you
But he's here.
And he lays me down
And says that I'm pretty.
For now, that's enough.