I walk down the street towards you I lose my nerve; Walk past your alcove Walk back again Say hi And then “What happened?” You look at me with indignation “What happened when? What happened today? What happened yesterday? What happened three months ago…?” I’ve made a mistake. I should get out I have to leave… What ever happened to don’t talk to strangers? “Why am I out here?” I relax. “I used to be a designer. An architect. I’ve been published in Azure and Blueprint. But then I lost my wife. She locked me out and that was that. I lost everything…" “I started drinking, joined the military… Got out. And the checks they promised me? They’re nothing. Not enough to live on. Not even close." “People yell at me ‘Get a job’ But no one will hire you If you haven’t showered in a couple days, Haven’t shaved in a couple months, And haven’t been able to buy a suit in years. And what are you supposed to put in the address field on an application? Harvard square sidewalk?” I search my wallet. Nothing. “And people walk right past, Keep their eyes Looking straight ahead… Pull their kids to the other side of the sidewalk…” I listen. I listen for hours. You smile at me. “Nice talking to you”
For Gary
What’s so Funny?
What’s so funny?
It’s a question asked when one doesn’t get the joke.
At least for a man with no sense of the actual world around him, his own personal thoughts drowned him.
So caught up in his own personal love frenzy, bathing in his self indulgence.
Lives life through a screen and every day dives deeper into the things that make him scream, when awake in the day he feels as a raining king.
But when his head hits the pillow all the dreams and aspirations willow, falling deeper down the rabbit hole of what is but humanity dished on a silver platter, is his life just chatter?
I see a man do nothing, yet claims everything. I see a man receive in a time of need, then only ask for more
I’ve seen women give in and cheat over and over again, I’ve seen men break hearts from across countries wide spread apart, I’ve seen men piss on art and praise a life of a subatomic plague of self praise. (more…)
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