Dope

I watch him write. Every day I wake up the same way, and I head over to the house to stir up these stagnant waters. Ken writes while Patty watches television upstairs. Billy comes by sometimes, his toes are black and falling off. Sarah talks to me about the day when we'll go drink at the bar. We both know it will never happen. The house is a mix of genius, aged intuition and repetition. Amongst visionaries I hold communion.




Stagnant waters require a mixer.

And fantasy is all I know. Absolutes are inescapable for this romantic.
The reality that my friends operate within isn't quite interesting enough for me. My instructor asks me to post something interesting on her school 'discussion board', and I'm frozen. My truths are lies... could I lie to people I don't even know?
I went out with a married woman.
Her husband is a kind man,
and my heart is shaken.

My love
is a glove.
It fits only my hand.

Who wishes sacrifices.
Who sacrifices loses.
Who wins what he loses?
Who wins? Who loses?