Are things really that bad and
if they were
would I ever leave town or
would I sit here staring
into this computer and
will I ever make love again or
will I pretend
to transfigure a bleak moment in time where
nothing happens and
continues not happening until
it becomes everything and
feelings are more than feelings when
they become facts like
I'm blue physically because
I'm dead so I'm
actually the color blue and
remember that night in my parents guest bedroom
before the surgery we returned from
a rough day of heavy drinking
that night was a sad premonition to
some very dark times of
months inside a jail cell with people I
wouldn't want to meet in a bar and
why won't you answer my telephone calls
is it because we are
both pale and feeble and
have paper-thin veins in
our arms that some
of us used to pump drugs into like
the people who live in my house
who lie to me when their mouths are open and
I gave up smoking and drinking and
am about to give up masturbation for
good because it is a black-hole that
leads to more masturbation so
just sex for now and
maybe I'll try calling you later though
it's not really like that I'm
truly sorry and
not the same person in
fact I'm a bit older now and
things have changed for
the better so maybe
you'll call me back but
I'm not ready to commit to anything so
you might want to sleep on it
