My studio by the sea

The incense

Cigarette smoke

The neighbors next door racket

The dirt, the grime

Reminds me of Grove Street

And Mac, sleeping

Angelic snores from a lofted bed

Where I sat, idle in the morning

Last nights memory a circus

Holding my piss, hungry

Waiting for Forest to finish his shower

So as I could relieve myself

And head back to Long Island

Where I’d dream of dying

In my studio by the sea

Left: Mac, Right: Me looking down the hall at Forest, BK 2013-2014

My very American illusion of happiness

Nothing feels good tonight.

Nothing sits well.

Nothing but myself and beer

to drown away my very American illusion

of happiness—my dear, I’m not sorry.

Please understand.

Join the party

When people are singing

laughing and dancing,

join the party, because

not every wallflower has it’s perks,

and growth, well

that’s up to you.