they hide behind their sunglasses in night
they want you to believe they were born cool
that they were just the right degree of self aware since first breath
and only fell down stairs when people weren't looking

they value their two cents at a round dollar
and flock to pens with ensured traffic and eaten grass

they walk out of doors in slow motions
in the rise-and-descent of their tidal strut
they are in their own video
to be watched and fleeting sense of importance prevails a moment more...

they'll check store windows to see if they are still there
that there is no witness to the public private self examination

but they might need a hand
to navigate the backward steps in time
broken-vase-growing-together-again
footsteps of the hallways of their life
with no maps to confirm that, indeed, some
one  had been here before

the melted snows ashcan offerings

the selfish show of the subway passengers

i'm breathing in your film

my design does not fit in your matrix

i do not hide any ulterior intentions in my smile

you would rather stay inside than to not fake it

the strings holding up your mask are apparent

nobody commits to the nubile transient

for i'm making my way to my own funeral

looking for invitees to heed the procession

a butterfly's wings is enough need for evidence

that it can never quite be a possession

it's the accident that's your intention

warning you can't misstep without direction

When I dispose of my semen I have a feeling that I just discarded some part of my self and gave it to the wind.  I think of all the energy contained within that secretion and how it might affect the course of my life; my momentary constructions of personality.

When the spasm hits the raw, vacant air, I think of how cheap the thrill came, that I once again pleased my self.  A substance that was me, that was mine, is wasted . . . I view the lady in the window and I connect with to fantasy without victim.

When I'm verbally ruminating about the complexities and
uncertainties about existence and reality,
it's quite clarifying when somebody chimes in and proclaims
"It's QUANTUM PHYSICS!"

my mind has a mind of its own

you are no one

one way to do it

is to give a lighter with enough gas to only work after it has been struck many times, the friction you created through growing frustration and the heat of your hand

use these calculations to catch the bus six minutes earlier tomorrow

today is the yesterday of tomorrow
today is the tomorrow of yesterday



if you don't go to sleep today is your tomorrow my today or my today yesterday

..and I did it with the grapefruit soap thinking of you ...

Today I spent time with people who weren't there.  I talked to them.