Starvation and Bravery

Smoking weeds
a winter thing for me
warm comfort
hibernating
blinds drawn
heavy rain outside
pouding the life out of this old tin roof
drowning out all sound
fuck,
I can hardly hear this godamn record I have on,
It is up as loud as it goes now,
full blast,
but the sound of this rain
is
tribal in it's ancestry
and likewise
preparing for an unintentional
battle
and then I imagine her
again,
her deep
nicotine fueled
kisses
stale and rancid in their forced campanionship
and her wet tongue wildly
flickering eroticism
her open mouth clamped
over mine
and
I,
the willing hostage to
her seductive pleasure
realm
and the lonely fire of intolerable
absence
still burns
but I have no
conscious
awareness
forgotten time
only
the abstract
meaning
as I feed on her
wisdom
yes at this
moment
everything's serene
in nature
and the only unsettling
paranoia
is the inevitable
distance we
supress
I like it better here
though,
where I can be all alone
with my
thoughts,
bad habits
and
unwholesome
self.
and of course the
unnecessary bouts of
endless
sleeping
sleeping
sleeping
without the incessant
haunting of
servitude and this
rotten
incesticide that plagues
society...
Composure,
yes
go your own
now
for it delivers not only
starvation and
bravery...
but
an imaginary kingdom
to
behold...
ascertain?