kiss the gravel

how come some people
get to sleep
through the poverty?



i touch, see, smell, taste
the textures of

non-faith
un-hope
self-pity

pretty soon
i am flagged as a toxin
to somebody else's way of life


in the way.


i went to a viewing today,
he was a delightful artist.
he had a long run.


his creations surrounded us; drawings, paintings, amazing wood work and even furniture.

i thought of each hour that went into the intricate wood joinery, what inspired some of the abstract drawings and paintings. i was thrilled by the photographs lining the room, surrounding the mourners as we made the circuit.

it made me want to stay awake a little longer, i guess. ride out the night (as always) until dawn. speculate what i would like to leave behind, and then precisely how much time i might need to complete these objectives.



minutes, minutes, munching away at life. men seem to understand time better than women. well, that's not true. but men have seriously huge watches sometimes. i have a men's watch now. it's part of my proto-renegade-sociopath rebellion, in addition to my big, gross ear-gauges. you wouldn't believe how many people are grossed out by them. i don't get what the big deal is?


oh well. what's me is me. but i can't stand the "me"-ness of it all! it's like, my ego is soooo clinging to my skin like a nylon stocking...and pretty soon i'm disguised, a stocking on my head, robber-style. what a horrible feeling. breathing through the stinky old screen; constricted by what i've constructed.

this is serious. this is also ongoing.


back to soap scum and water stains. none of which are mine. well, some. and dishes too.





i will be going back to the bathroom pretty soon. i would like to be buried with several rolls of toilet paper.





how does earth become consecrated? what i mean is, how can we account for "sacred" versus "non-sacred?"