whole day sad



1.

deep night

rubella sky



the blast furnace of forever, now silent,

lurks, a yellow envelope. yellow as a foul tooth,

it creeps at the horizon



toward which I've been training my spotlight

(it red as blood, never yet rubies).



now time though

to train it

upon my

chattel self



2.

need to get more insomniac

need to cultivate the darkness hours

or else need to get more covert in daylight

like I am now



need to sleep less

or need less of something anyway and more

of something else



keep thinking of cigarettes



3.

I remember when I used to think mania was something to be cultivated

that's when I really began to hit smoking and drinking hard



a cathartic sense of self



need, I suppose, to channel this addict's personality and sensibility

into the rush of art making



yeah, fuck, why not say it again and you know who you are if that's

what you been going for



man I would start smoking again if I lived alone and just didn't give a fuck but giving a fuck

I suppose is what reels one back in from the precipice where insanity

stops being a cool game you think you're playing with the world and instead

starts to eat you



like so many things in the world will eat you and ultimately destroy you,

insanity, as insidious as complacency & comfort



a finger trembling toward

the hard face of the monk,



and he

a drinking monk,

one



prone to rage



4.



don't be afraid I will wait for you