third time @ BAR ICE the same music ear drums still die, boys smoking under blue light, girls hitting on bartenders dropping shot glasses giving out free candy- colored liquids to lively livers graduating from bar exams to bars flowing with ice and straws delivering intoxication to bladder peeing blood making the toilet pink like blush on burned cheeks kissed by wrinkled lips begging for a puff of fantasy jumping from books to hooks of destiny wrapped around necks that cover the hoarse larynx that lags in conversation fighting to amplify itself above the amplifier installing a permanent soundtrack of forgetful dance that sinks to feet feeling too much ground through rubber soles walking toward the neon strip that robs all souls of their shells

no reason to upend self for extended hours of no sleep though wished for a split second the mind would do with younger souls clad in skimpy tank tops barely covering brawn –– no, will not sacrifice conviction nor taste, will not do what in which there is no belief, will sit lonely but with poetry until time comes with men (yes, plural, my greed) who can drive this body to paradise, not just the next broken budget room of a sweaty hotel –– will cultivate patience good things take time but time takes away good things leaves me leaking the youth that attracts men old with wisdom of sex who will worship my wispy waist as I wait to host his prayers and hoist his body onto mine –– but here no luck has landed the barren soils of passion, no reason to loosen the spirit from its flesh if there is no men to appreciate, only holograms of past lovers haunting the grave

woke up with sickness for home nostalgia of space also fear of returning without having seen the Big Buddha wake up in front of the ascending holy sun sacred to all life that breathes light –– instead drowsied back into sleep after realizing the initial error for having tired myself to forgetfulness from trading paper for merchandise tying me down whereas a glimpse of the Noble One would have lifted this headache and moistened this parchment mouth speaking “what ifs” to the wet pillow still sleeping off the sorries

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