as for m well thats another story...
my real is a division between
fictions/
the other things idont post Anyhwhere...
and then dissertation/ yes.
well one cannot be sure .. its winter
things are rough
money is tight very tight
disappointments
noise
shit man, sometimes/
i feel like a motherless
child
i dont wish to be the cause of pain to anyone
this world is a conspiracy that gets in the way of love and lovers
i dont get it
i really dont
poetry fits in there somewhere
theres
a night
with my heart
in it
&
maybe im dead
dying to be reborn
------------
in 'my" neighborhood i feel like a prisoner / somedays when i go out and each day i must the Ugliness
hurts
my eyes
i think of goya
and i must turn
ugliness into art
where is the face I love
her face and eyes I saw
in this world of not touch
yes
oceans air
where i live is just another shit box war zone
another dump
another place on the edge
all this could go
so quick
in this mad crazy world
