FIRE IN THE BRAIN

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FIRE IN THE BRAIN


Children watch me run through the streets, 
And wonder, what is it all about, my hurrying.

My eyes push forward, 
Cause me to squint. 
Then all at once I break into a smile.

And night after night in steady flow 
Ideas collect, press fierce, 
Hard against my brow.

The pressure makes for heat;
There is fire in the brain.

I hear words march with noise
Akin to soldiers' boots slapping on pavement.

I see your gaze upon me.
The beauty of your large brown eyes  
Engulfs my neural circuitry.

Oh I smell wheat grass! 
It's being blended with fresh strawberries and oranges.

I love the juices' heady odor, 
When ever I breathe it in --
I am reminded of you.

We looked out the window. 
We sat upon stools at a Formica bar,
A long, plate-glass window provided unobstructed view, 
And we people watched the intersection, 
Corners at avenue and street, the sidewalk before us, 
They became our theater, and we agreed; 
It was pleasant evening's entertainment.

Pressed, cardboard cartons contained our suppers.
We ate our meals with plastic forks and knives; 
The napkins were brown, recycled paper.

Believe me, no irony intended. Honest! 

Every memory, every instant
My being with you, every occasion was lovely! 
I shall die a happy man.

Die a happy man? 
Here's my defense. 
However I may wonder, 
Whether ultimately I write fact or fiction.

Do I possess truth or fall to illusion? 

I know that those two forces bind me,
As is the case with Siamese Twins, 
Who are born to share common cerebrum.



In a language plain, common to us all,
Here I stand and bear witness,
Though that I am mere flesh and born to perish,
Spirit informs me and grants me friends,
Friends who are awaiting worship,
And friends of friends who celebrate the light,
A priesthood of all believers who patiently gather
Filling the rows of benches in the meeting hall.
And one by one this church affirms a new covenant --
God is love and death has no power,
The kingdom lives within us, our souls eternal.

FIRE IN THE BRAIN

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FIRE IN THE BRAIN

Children watch me run through the streets,

And wonder, what is it all about, my hurrying.

My eyes push forward,

Cause me to squint.

Then all at once I break into a smile.

And night after night in steady flow

Ideas collect, press fierce,

Hard against my brow.

The pressure makes for heat;

There is fire in the brain.

I hear words march with noise

Akin to soldiers' boots slapping on pavement.

I see your gaze upon me.

The beauty of your large brown eyes

Engulfs my neural circuitry.

Oh I smell wheat grass!

It's being blended with fresh strawberries and oranges.

I love the juices' heady odor,

When ever I breathe it in --

I am reminded of you.

We looked out the window.

We sat upon stools at a Formica bar,

A long, plate-glass window provided unobstructed view,

And we people watched the intersection,

Corners at avenue and street, the sidewalk before us,

They became our theater, and we agreed;

It was pleasant evening’s entertainment.

Pressed, cardboard cartons contained our suppers.

We ate our meals with plastic forks and knives;

The napkins were brown, recycled paper.

Believe me, no irony intended. Honest!

Every memory, every instant

My being with you, every occasion was lovely!

I shall die a happy man.

Die a happy man?

Here's my defense.

However I may wonder,

Whether ultimately I write fact or fiction.

Do I possess truth or fall to illusion?

I know that those two forces bind me,

As is the case with Siamese Twins,

Who are born to share common cerebrum.

In a language plain, common to us all,

Here I stand and bear witness,

Though that I am flesh and born to perish,

Spirit informs me and grants me friends,

Friends who are awaiting worship,

And friends of friends who celebrate the light,

A priesthood of all believers who patiently gathers

Filling the rows of benches in the meeting hall.

And one by one this church affirms a new covenant --

God is love and death has no power,

The kingdom lives within us, our souls immortal.

PASSION PLAY

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PASSION PLAY

Yeeaaaaaaaoooowwwww!

I seek. I crave the whiff, your body scent,
Your fragrance, I remember, it’s as though,
You’re in my arms right here at home today.

My resolve, it weakens,
I want you back.
I’m lonely, turn the covers,
Find only empty bed and heart ache,
The awful pain of my regret.

Sadness fouls my face.

Oh, how I hate the resolve,
Never to see you, again,
Have nothing more to do with you,
No matter how long the length of my days,
I swear to it and mean it!

Yet I want you. Wish to see you, once more,
Your form behind the shower curtain,
Ghost figure in the steam,
The water running full throttle, the heat,
The great comfort, I close my eyes,
I fall to vision; it’s incredible, beyond belief,
How do I describe glory that had come and gone.
I fail in my recount, you, you, my darling,
And in this, my own confusion
I reduce myself to greeting-card sentiment,
I have come to believe you were heaven sent.

Can’t you see I’m at your feet!

I wish to witness your getting dressed,
You, in the morning naked in our bedroom, and
Naked in the room whose door opens
Opposite to the foot of our bed,
Hurrying to get on with the day,

And then the other part, morning, noon,
Or night, when you are in our bed,
And I hold you open to savor over and over again.

 
I want to see your smile, and utterly to embrace you.
Were I to steal – now and forever – all your pain away!

I would be finished with you, I want you out,
But you, devil, trickster, you and your incantations,
You practice arts you learned when young,
When you and your mother spent all that time,
Back and forth on boat going to the Bahamas,
You use high-tech, gigabyte millions,
You work a black magic,
Have you command of infectious virus?
The computer’s screen beckons me, keeps me awake.

Believe me. I tell you true..
I hear your voice, your whispers,
Behind the sounds, behind the hum of the circuitry,
Witch!  You sit among the cords and the monitor lights,
You befoul my every electronic connection.

Then there are the notes.  I have mail.
You use email posts.
Sometimes you tell of your day, the pleasantries,
What you made for dinner,
Or how your plants fare in your new garden.
Occasionally you include incidentals about your business,
About your family and friends, your recent travels.

Your chief concern you, how you feel,

Hoping to fill, to close up the empty between us,
I am compelled to read,
Though the letters do not include me,
Of course, not word, nothing,
Nothing about how things might be going for me.

Why do I care, why even open your communications?

Hapless, I look to figure how I might fit within your plans,.
Hope somehow that you might write something personal to me.
Perhaps how you wish that I were there with you at home.
Maybe you might say that you miss our intimacies,
Or claim that you would love to hear my voice.

I search out your script, find no satisfaction.
I try, and I try to extract some tiny comfort between the lines

Instead the wound reopens, my cut festers,
The pain surrounding the punctured, the hot.
The ripped and torn, the awful marks of the lash,
There has not been time enough,
Will ever there be time enough,
My flesh, properly, to heal?

And forgive me the blasphemy, forgive!
Lord have mercy, save me!

I am reminded of Jesus after the beating,
When the Roman soldiers, who had torn off the purple,
Returned Him again to everyday garment,
Then at Golgotha where they stripped Him,
Before they nailed Him to the cross,
Yea, they stripped him, once more,
The pain of those wounds, opened and reopened,
Inflicted, over and over, oh the burn, every time,
Every time you write me, and I hear from you again.

RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO, A Poem About Friendship

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RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO,
A Poem about Friendship


Respond to this video.
Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what to consider,
Or tell me what you may believe.
How do I handle it?
Is there a way?
I can not be friends with her;
She is no friend to me.

Tell me what to do.

It’s not that she’s bad,
Or evil beyond belief;
Yet she has broken her every promise,
No regard for holy vow,
And the real truth behind her lies,
And herein some sympathy is required,
She has a hard time dealing,
Living in the everyday world.
She does not feel much in common,
Feels she has little to do with all the other girls,
Who have a fit in the regular world.

Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what to do!
My heart’s been rendered,
Seems as though split in two,
Torn along the lines,
A perpetual refrain:

Nothing to win, and
Nothing left to lose.

“Oh, you’re such a pretty girl,
Why are you so skinny?”
That’s what the ladies ask,
When she is just standing there,
Standing at a stop waiting for the bus.

Let me tell you what she said,
I tell you, dear audience,
What she once revealed to me,
She said that she’s always starving.
Now I know how she got so worn away.

I have seen her get thinner,
Thinner by the day.
She can not finish her dinner.
She imagines cottage cheese;
Sees it form on the back of her legs.



Let me whisper a secret.
Maybe it will elicit a comment or two.
The first appliance I bought for the house.
It was a white, electronic scale.

She will not step on the scale.
Claims I take the wrong approach.

Her bleeding, it stopped some time ago,
But no problem here, when there’s the pill,
Tweak the hormone and, anyway,
What’s so important?
Why the big deal?

Really, I can hear her say it,
As if she were present,
Right before me and talking into my face.
She would be all pretend and diffident,
Yet with the skinny sarcasm in her voice.
Oh that is she, little miss perfect!

“Come on!  I get it;
 “Don't go worrin' your head.
 “Relax, no problem!
“My blood, it’s flowing!
“I’ve got a show right now.”

Respond to this video.
Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what you think,
Or tell me what you believe.
I can’t be friends with her.
She can not be a friend to me.
She's no friend to anyone;
She's no friend even to herself.

Nothing for me,
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose.
It’s so awful, very weird,
Still I hear me say it.
I know she still loves me,
Yet how can she love me
When she doesn't love herself.

Will she ever live without worry,
Might she ever be carefree again?

Can it be she’s really dying?
Dear God, I am glad that
I can not know...
I can not know the truth.
She jogs for miles,
Goes to the gym every other day,
Claims the thing -- she has it,
One day she told me,
“Down, cold, and under-control!”

My heart is broken,
All I can do is pray.

She's runnin', she is running away from me.

I can’t be friends with her,
She can not be a friend.
She's no friend to anyone,
She can not find love for herself.

What else can I do?
What am I missing?
I’ve never doubted her beauty!
Please, tell me, tell me.

Merciful Heaven!
Is there any thing,
Tell me if there is some thing,
Any thing that I might do?

WITHOUT YOU, George Street Heartache

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WITHOUT YOU,
George St. Heartbreak

I am sick with rheum and aches,
And a congestion of the lungs.
I cough constantly.

Insomnia stains my eye sockets;
They look as though charcoal had blackened them.
For the first time in my life,
I look older than my real age.

Years ago, when a child,
I read auguries in the snarled pattern of clouds,
And practiced divination in how snow
Accumulated to subtle differences of height
On the post rails surrounding the corral.

I watched the frozen breath of horses,
Looking for some hope of bliss,
But abstracted only gloom and heartbreak.

 
Today, desperate and preoccupied, I try
To pick out the future from the way
Antennae wire twists against the white walls,
And falls up and down
Along the molding in my bedroom.
All omens promise bad luck.

My mind has fallen into a moat
And a bad mood has dungeoned me.

I keep to the apartment all day,
Flipping over playing cards,
Looking for my destiny every time,
A queen of hearts appears from the deck.

It's going okay tonight, not too bad.

"Stanley, don’t be wearin’ that stickpin
Opals are always considered unlucky!"

My luck isn't very good as it is.
I don't think me wearing an opal
Changes the outcome of life that much.

No eulogy for this affair of heart.
No photographs left here for me to remember us.

I see no people down the street to witness
Me drive off in the Ford alone.

Rain and cold, happy couples walk the avenues,
Huddling close, tight, one to another.

Your name has been deleted from the speed dial.
It has vanished from my computer screen.

I guess these musings are the closest
It may ever come to a biography of us.

I must wonder if this whole fantastic romance,
I once imagined, does it amount to no more, now,
Is it a footnote in this big book of my own?

No children will be named for us,
Not that you wanted it anyhow,
The children being named after either you or me.

No admission will ever be charged
For entrance to the home where we once lived,
Spoke ardently of love for one other,
And I tempted verse to celebrate us for the ages.

And despite all the noise coming from the street,
All the appointments I have to keep this evening,
I can only lie on the floor and look to the ceiling.
The light is going out of my eyes.

Some people lust after money.
Others seek a hundred different lovers.
Lots of people crave more than a fair share.

I, I just want you, your love, dear,
And while life goes on without you,
I feel increasingly impoverished.
I have fallen into awful ingratitude.

A grand poverty of spirit besets me.

I exaggerate my mood, and in a panic I imagine
An army attacks me and that I am driven as a refugee,
Lost to my wife and child, forced to flee home
And that I abandon my bed and kitchen utensils.

I know it wrong to venture
Such outrageous comparisons;
Yet when I sit here alone, I feel,
As if, God were punishing me,
That prayer fails me,
And that in my life today
I am bereft of His Succor. 

CRAZY LOVE

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CRAZY LOVE, 
Sorry Interlude



I am at a loss, dumbfounded,
Neither you nor I have forgotten the depth,
The big range of ready affection,
We always felt exceptionally well-suited,
We were great couple in many ways…

You yourself proclaimed our special bond.
One early, Sunday evening, mid August,
We stood at the corner,
Seventh Avenue at Twenty-Fourth Street,
We were awaiting the turn from red,
A traffic light signal, the sign to say GO,
When I told you of a recent article from “Science Times”,
The every Tuesday section of the New York Times,
It reported that the outside perimeter, 
A year and half at tops, the time span of romantic love.

The passion subsides that quick scientists argue.

“Oh!”  You immediately demurred,
We had not even crossed the Avenue, before
You took exception, challenged the current science,
And proclaimed, “Not for us!”
You professed the special heat, how our romance,
Our romance more akin eternal flame,
Not subject to normal wane of heart’s intensity.

My soul took flight, my love, ecstatic.
I felt like Superman able to leap tall buildings
With single, terrific bound; I believed my power
Greater than steam locomotive,
That I ran with the speed of bullets.

Poppycock! Tomfoolery personified,
And me idiot for believing a word you might say,
By October you were gone,
Your every promise, your solemn vows, prevarication.
Everlasting love, indeed!  It lasted
A bit more than a month and one half.

I am sick of it, this terrible romance,
I can not go on, it’s too sad,
Too much, the caprice,
You toss me to the ground,
The ungrateful child’s unwanted toy,
However you may have wanted me,
I exist no more, and am broken.

For both of us there’s plenty desire,
You sneak up on me and stoke
The flame which still fires your heart,
Neighbors tell me they see you,
Saying how you haunt me,
How you seem unable to let me go,
Signs the real extent,
How much you must still love me.

And I write this love poem,
Though what was once this thing of ours,
This breath and we wondrous, beauteous mates,
Finished, driven apart, and my verse,
Has become a pathetic exercise, a sorry chapter
In story which goes nowhere,
It bears title, everything about us so crazy.

Had I not become accustomed to your way,
Spent no time next to you in bed,
Were I smart enough a man,
To have avoided you in the first place,
To have never said a word to you,
Except perhaps the usual humors,
The greetings ‘Good Morning, and Hello’,
The simple inquiry about your health,
Asking the everyday about how are you,
I would never have gotten to the point,
That loathsome feeling, you love me no more.

And equally, both sad and disturbing,
That mine, which once had been the warmest of regard,
Turns to disdain, and fervent wish,
We speak no more, and I never see you again.

 

I feel you woman. I have a telepathic gift:
I hear when you think of me, and you know it!
The vice-a-verse is, also, true,
The communication goes both ways,
Right now I could clench my teeth,
Do an inward scream, and its loudness
Would startle you and disturb your sleep to dawn.

I wish I could caress you,
Practice the arts I had just started,
Oh, had I more time to turn you,
To make you love slave, enthrall you,
But I really wish, I might have forgotten you,
Relegated your touch to a darksome, narrow defile,
A deep place and a dark, a hollow, where I 
No longer remember your name.

Can’t you fall in love with someone else?

I know it’s wrong for me to say,
I love you.  So let me go.
Time will strengthen my resolve,
I shall move on, your chance to reconcile,
To prove your word sincere and true,
Though once here, has long since come and gone.

Darling, we have fallen and are amiss,
No!  No joy, fruitless to embark upon a road,
A road running toward distant horizon,
With its final extremity, we arriving at dead end.

My pledges of love, all my dreams, now lament,
My heart, rent, my mind composes a sad story,
Neither can I live with nor without you.

I must stop it, quit the insanity.

I may believe, I may declare my love for you,
But I can not find the reason,
No need for me to keep my holding on.

PUBLIC AFFECTION, Love in a Busy Place

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PUBLIC AFFECTION,
Love in a Busy Place


Seven years ago, we started as friends,
Acquaintances, commercially.  Later,
You worked with me, sorting jewelry.
Jarek thought us well suited, maybe a steady couple,
Figured we might enjoy, complement each other.

He said he saw you eyeing me.
I feared disaster, but he said, “Blame me, Stanley!
You can always blame me for everything!”

Last Saturday at the Pizzeria,
Ten AM in a very busy place,
Despite our aversion to public affection,
We lost ourselves in caress.
It was prolonged and remarkably tender. 
We were standing up,
Up from our table and chairs for all to see.

God! I love to kiss you!

Later, a counterman asked, were we dating?
I heard him think, “Not bad!”
His eyes declared your beauty!
I wanted to agree, but answered, “No.”


2.

Passion strong, I want you.

Yet our love went awry.
You abandoned each, every solemn promise,
Pulled up stakes, and left me home alone, miserable.

Still wisdom counsels me to patience.

A psychiatrist reminded me that breaking bonds,
The ties between lovers, not inconsequential,
"It's not a change of shoes," she said.

I followed her order, made an inventory.
I listed the virtues, the good qualities about us. 
I put them to paper twice. 
I started with our business acumen, noted, first,
Our mutual attention to detail, (We never misplaced,
Or lost a thing) then our discipline, we operated
Like clockwork, yet we always had fun,
Scouring tables and racks for hidden treasure,
We loved to play games of show and tell.

We were a team, and business profited.

Next, continuing the doctor’s precept, I wrote, how
We had worked out personal protocols,
Settled on behaviors, and aimed daily
To create well being and household harmony,
I marked our mutual hope, the promise, that
Carnal and spiritual fat, years of it, we felt
The dream of proverbial bounty, fantastic, was ours.

We were being brought unto a good land and a large,
Not unlike fulfillment of the Biblical foretelling,
When up from earth flowed milk and honey.

 
3.

And now, darling, I ask, might you
Reconsider the plus and the minus, love’s ledger?
Your skill at cost accounting, good,
You must surmise how tiny the downside is,
And know the total burden amounts to no great sum.

Frugal, you never needlessly cast away a thing,
Yet waste time. Squander the crafted continuum,
The more than a year and a half, our life to date,
Discard, wantonly, though you profess love,

And write of your ardor for me still.

Deaf to your own beating bosom,
Refusing when you already knew,
You knew right from the start! 

Ach du Lieber Herr Gott!
You deny your soul, your very passion for a man,
Who would sacrifice his life for yours!


4.

In early youth I learned love,
I caught its lyric while I listened to music on the radio.

When I lived in Germany, half a life ago,
American soldiers played it on the jukebox.
And I heard it from Sweden on the web today,
The youth channel, clear and loud,
Singer and song, similar or the same,
The moon, big and bright, in the Milky Way tonight,
Oh, Yes!  Its lyric hollers.  Time’s a wasting,
There are kisses not tasted, and the hook repeats
Whole lot of living, whole lot of loving to do,
The life, the love and kisses!  No one
Would I rather do it with than you.

You, that moon of song and yore,
Your reflected image, I had it in my net.
But when I went to pull it up, it sank,
Not like a fish, but as a large, awesome, golden coin.

A fisherman, I set to sea and trawled above
Muck and seaweed, and the debris of sunken vessels,
I sought to snare splendid satellite consort.


5.

You ruin it, me being alone!

Overcome by yearning,
Believing I can no longer go on,
Or face my life without you, I turn to this ritual.
I try to make matters worse.

(Audience, might you imagine the procedure here.)

I play a mental trick upon my own mind’s eye,
I resort to a maneuver, whereby
I actually practice the increase of my anguish.
To accomplish this feat, to feel worse than ever,
I command my memory to refresh the scenes,
Picture the wonders of our life together so far.

I recall the times I waited for you,
When I sat on the bench under the gazebo
In early sun at the Amish fairground in Columbus,
My delight, carrying your purchases to our van,
Hurrying off to the next market stall;
There we chose fruit to last the week.

And then I hark back to the highway near Princeton,
The late sunlight dappled through trees,
And touched, fell upon my arm through the window
In such a magic way, that, I told you the moment,

This present instant was the happiest in my life.

Oh, how good! How good! I, wide-awake,
Within eidetic dream, glimpsed the New Jerusalem,
Gott im Himmel. Alles geht gut mit der Welt!
When these among, some my fondest day dreams,
Have utterly knocked my spirits flat,
I practice the discipline, and return, again,
I recall one instance more, one more,
Still another rapture and replay it.

The awful pain, how the agony increases
When once I force myself to review.

Say, I consider, one of our nights at Red Roof Inn,
Where we stretched out under the blankets, slept,
Although we set the air conditioner full-blast,
We awoke warm, and ready for the day,
We brimmed with affection, I believe it was apparent,
Our love, it showed from morning at breakfast
Throughout day until we sat
To enjoy our evening repast.


6.

That I write in this manner,
For me it seems remarkable, it really does!
A generation removed from Burroughs and Ginsberg,
My own howl is very different
From all last century's distress and dismal focus.

Frankly, dear, I do not give a damn for the anguish.
I add not one note to the noisey dread,
All that talk about the eve of destruction.
I do not care about the revolutions and the tribal wars
Which had engulfed Europe over the last ten decades.

Or that America held captive to the appetite of Moloch,
Enslaved to the chicanery of mass media,
Those minions who served it, who wore
The conformity, the costume of the gray flannel suit,
These sentiments do not move me.
I feel no poetry in them.

I do not care a wit about dope or sexual fashion,
I have no verse for junkies.
The adventures of alcoholics during lost weekends,
No, no, mean nothing to me.

From the start of this millennium it has been you,
All woe betide, all suffering set aside, my road,
My broad highway, you, only you, my love for you.

And when once I manage to travel the great space,
Go back and forth between the current circumstance,
The sad bottom, the deep, deep miles,
The coal-black tunnels of my subterranean despair,
How lonely I am without you,
The sorrow which now separates me
From the dizzy rise, the heights of my reveries,
The awesome memories of us, we being together,

Anytime I am able to traverse, successfully run
Those polar points in time and mood, back and forth,
Between what I had felt yesterday and what I feel today,
When I survive traveling
The long distance between then and now,
I recognize that I have attained a true, tough spirit,
A mental frame able to withstand anything.

I am a man, glorious, a warrior of distinction,
A holy, holy, holy, a brave heart, and Knight,
Whose renown and distinction matches
The rank of any noble who sat at round table in Camelot.


7.

I am not weeping, just weary with you in my mind.
I weep when angry, and then I weep.
Were I not completely drained, I would weep more.

I, I saw the situation was wrong right from the start,
Though I thought things might be different between us.
Over and over, again and again, every day a rerun,
Countless slights, indignities, lack of common courtesy,

Little or no gratitude,
Without faith in God’s abiding love.

I wrote you letters. I said your bad behavior hurt me.
At the breaking point and wanting out,
I was desperate, fearing I would lose you forever,
I believed your plea and vow.

“Take me back and I’ll change. I’ll be good, I swear!”

I made you put it in writing,
And for a short while things improved,
Though, ultimately, what you wrote meant nothing.

You lead me on.
Your rearing has not allowed veracity.
About our relationship, you told no one, not even you.

The more you revealed to me,
Once I learned how dark your history,
How you had been terribly abuse,
And when I became privy to your secret habit,
The more, the more distant love grew.

The truth, your personal truth sundered us.


8.

Help me, be my friend and
Come back home and sleep with me again.

Take the key and open the door,
See the beckoning path,
It lies right there before you,
Learn what countless generations know,
Willingness to change brings us life that works.
A small step prepares the leap.

Remember the sweet, sweet caresses.
Do not tarry!  Soon all opportunity vanishes!
Consider the moment, the public affection,
If not for you, please, do it for me.

The hurry-burly of time overwhelms us.
No significance remains, boundless and bare,
Darling, the lone and level sands stretch far away.

RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO, A Poem about Friendship

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RESPOND TO THIS VIDEO,
A Poem about Friendship



Respond to this video.
Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what you think,
Or tell me what you may believe.
I can’t be friends with her;
She is no friend to me.


Tell me what to do,

It’s not she’s bad,
Or evil beyond belief;
Yet she has broken her every promise,
No regard for holy vow,
But the real truth behind her lies,
And here great sympathy is required,
She has a hard time copin’,
Livin’ in the regular world,
Bein’ like all the other girls,
Who fit in the regular world.

Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what to do!
My heart’s been rendered,
I feel it split,
I feel it’s split in two.

Nothing to win, and
Nothin’ left to lose.

‘Oh, you’re such a pretty girl,
Why are you so skinny?’
That’s what the ladies ask,
When she just standin’ there,
Standin’ there waitin’ for a bus.

Let me tell you what she said,
I tell you, dear audience,
What she once revealed to me,
She said, she’s always starvin’
That’s how she, she got worn away,
I’ve seen her get thinner,
Thinner by the day,
She can not finish her dinner,
She imagines cottage cheese,
Sees it form on the back of her legs.

Let me whisper a secret,
Maybe it will clear the air,
The first piece of furniture,
The first thing I bought for this house
It was a white, electronic scale,
She will not step on the scale.

Her bleeding it stopped some time ago,
But no problem with that, when there’s the pill,
Tweak the hormone and, anyway,
What’s so important?
Why the big deal?

Really, I can hear her say it,
As if she were present,
Right before me into my face, talkin’,
She be all pretend, diffident,
Yet the tiny sarcasm in her voice,
Oh that’s her, littl’ miss perfect!

‘Come on! I’ve got it, no problem!
‘My blood, it’s flowin’!
‘I’ve got my period right now.’

Respond to this video.
Tell me, dear audience,
Tell me what you think,
Or tell me what you believe.
I can’t be friends with her.
She can’t be friend to self.

Nothing for me,
Nothing to win and
Nothin’ left to lose.

It’s so awful, it’s weird,
I know she still loves me.

Will she ever be carefree again?

Can it be she’s really dyin’,
Dear God, I fear it’s true,
But she runs for miles,
Goes to the gym every other day,
Claims the thing, under-control!

My heart is broken,
All I can do is pray.

I can’t be friends with her,
She can’t be friend to self,

What else can I do?
What am I missin’?
I’ve never doubted her beauty!
Please, tell me, tell me,
-- I love her! –

Merciful Heaven!
Is there any thing,
If there is any thin’ I might do?