#6-

A Poem

There is a hunger in me so great - It suprises me from time to time.
Like a rusted tuna can in a nature preserve. The breath in me is fetid and wild, longing for violence and softness. Careening back and forth between extremes of joy and depression; Indifference to the suffering of others — now crying at the memory of a dying bird.

I know men who have eyes deadened by the pressures of being a man — unfeeling, smiling, all is well all is fine…... I know gods who are immortalized and inked in trees = I know their soul like I know my own soul.

My grey watches the movements of others. I see the slight twitch of longing at the mention of a name, eyes unmet, hands in hiding. I can see the compilation of their being dripping out of their eye holes. This is not a thing that we would like to see —

I see the heat coming off their body; see the ape like shape of their hands, I can hear their thoughts from time to time.

This hunger for knowing is a poison. There is a weight of knowing too much, much more than you could ever need.