the lights don't burn the nose, only mildly offended. the gin goes down easy, easier than the conversations. He's trying to remember, I'm trying to forget. We're both doomed. Put on your reading glasses: her kids are in their 30's. Mine would be 24-25... something like that: age appropriate activities. People in his Freundkreis don't discuss Marx or Stirner... Poetry & philosophical literature doesn't come up in conversation. Drinking alone in the city, Blinking lights breaking hearts; I'm not even trying anymore. The stuttering starts; -- just too much effort, really -- So I'll write poetry About ass i'll never caress, Eyes that will never see me, Tongues who will never say my name. It's good this way: Better than a lifetime of failing to love & appreciate until it's always too late.
screaming at low volumes
