found this in drafts and liked bits of it so i'm posting.

pray for me, bukowski
ferlinghetti think of me in your
liquid
fluid words
thought that does not trip on thought or
metaphor

no need for a name
a brain
no need for anything but cadence

rhythm toppling over rhythm
in and out of rhythm there is
rhythm

like a bass line rolling over a smutty scene
like my life
playing out
in stacatto beats
too fast for me
too cracked for tomorrow

pray for me, kerouac
your freedom speaks novels

and ginsberg
while you are fucking
sucking
pray for me and
think of me
lend me a thought
an ear

for i was once a young lover
who hated
i hate
i fear
and drudgery will win

pray for me someone
anyone
with ties to a city
a song
loyal to a person or
thought
stuck with something and not trying to leave

pray for me
won't someone
pray for me thru tears
thru laughter

pray because i smoke around the wheeze i give myself
pray because i break love when i can
cut ties
and run

pray because i am lost
and lonely
and loved

here's a gem. stumbling across blogs you keep forgetting exist is always a pleasure. looking back and realising you can post again and no one, not even you, will care about it.

that place people find themselves in around the age of twenty.. the one they smile at years later when everything is stable and not quite how they expected and they've seen enough and done enough to undermine that lingering teenage angst with a determined complacence?

i'm in it. sometimes i forget that it's a delight to be so unsure of yourself.