M

Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I gave shape to my fears and made excuses. I varied my velocities, watched my selves sleep. Something’s not right about what I’m doing but I’m still doing it—living in the worst parts, ruining myself.

Time, experience: the colossal wave, sweeping tidal over me, drowning, drowning. How can I ever find permanence, that continuity with past and future, that communication with other human beings that I crave?

Madness, mayhem, erotic vandalism, devastation of innumerable souls - while we scream and perish, History licks a finger and turns the page.

I miss you.

I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again.