they threw me out of rehab,
so i got on the bus, at the bus stop,
with a blue mind.
rumors come back to me; but wait,
mister, where did you go?
i treat this like my motherfucking
thesis. out in the unread ether.
so listen to the sound,
while i lay down some sounds.
go fuck yourself, and then go fuck again. go fuck yourself and then go fuck a friend. or walk down these streets, these greasy streets; these pitiful homes of men in sawbones. and then think on it, as you walk down…
…Surely, there is nothing wrong with being alone at night. This is the time of the evening, after all, when one’s best thinking is done. And if someone was to knock on the door, why, that would disturb you, and if they were to come inside, an additional disruption — as you would have to stand up, and converse, and serve them drinks, perhaps. And the leaving is far worse than the arriving, far, far worse — with the See you soons and Until we meet agains, and the disordered gathering of belongings — and then the final exit, with…