Lit Up

Play me your best melody on that broken violin. Plant a vision in my brain like a seed into compost. On restless nights I walk alone, through the scorching light of this city. In the naked light I saw hundreds, maybe more, growing like a cancer. Beneath the halo of a neon sign 7/11 sign I saw people bow down and pray to the liquid gods they made; together and yet alone. Light me up one more time baby. The basement of my brain is a better place than this.

The asphalt is soft on my hard face. I lean against the wall and the wall leans away. Apology letters written on the back of empty cigarette packs lay scattered about the alley like rice on the ground long after a wedding. I've got water in my head. All I see is black and white and you. Here, let me play my Violin again. You just haven't seen my good side yet. It must be morning, blackbirds are circling my bed, little fathers falling on my head. This city is alive. It is my friend.

My blood runs through this city, down the drains, through the sewers, filtered out and tossed back into a glass. Drink up my blood, sweat, and tears. You've earned it.

You know, I've bottomed out a lot of times, but never like this. I've shot up in motel rooms, crashed in the back of a car, but i've never done this. My soul isn't regenerative anymore. Don't. Eat. Me.

"Don't pay attention to the sound of ANYONE!"

"Lost you in a drawer"

"Fuck"

"Hello Darkness. Don't leave"

Those are just a few samples of things I saw written on subway walls today. I don't understand why it's a crime. Brick is canvas, spray paint your masterpiece onto it.

"I dreamed about YOU"

Slow show. Push the cart, pick up a can. Not much left to do. Boredom. My blood is running on empty. Hello Darkness. The sun is done and the sky is crayon-black. Black, hut fragmented like a crayon. Once I owned a duplex, now A box is my house. But the streets have always been my home. Take my arm. Please.

No human being is past love.

If there is one thing in this world that I know to be true it is that.

What do you love?

I tried to love a woman, tried to love my job, tried loving alcohol, but couldn't love much. I love something else now. Maybe I'll tell you.

Can I trust you?

Broken bottle, shattered arm, this is not a nice place. Push my cart. Breathe. Spit. Drink from a fountain. I am hungry.

Sometimes when you look at an office building at night you get lucky and lots of people have their curtains open. It looks like that building contains a hundred separate little worlds, all similar but vastly different. It's enough to make you wonder what else is out there. Something I'll never see.

Teen kid blasted to hell because he didn't open he cash register fast enough. Didn't anybody tell him how to gracefully dissapear from a room? $22.71 is NOT worth dying for.

Softly creep back to my concrete mattress. This is my life.