The para­nor­mal does­n’t agree with me.
The nor­mal, you, send­ing me signs of love
And free­dom, does.
Lies and arro­gance make me ill.
Sweet­ness, you were truth,
Even if at the end you were caught in the lie of a needle.
Who under­stands?  Because I am seek­ing understanding,
Even if I know I shouldn’t.
Phi­los­o­phy.  Meta­physics.  Fuck.
Just be with me, like you are,
And that will be enough,
As it was when you walked and ate and slept
Beside me, no plan on either of our parts,
No under­stand­ing from any­one else necessary
To cre­ate what will out­live us.
Help me to look out­ward, on the dri­ving wind.
And please don’t stop your messages;
I read some­thing like hap­pi­ness for me in them.

[in Pilot Mag­a­zine]

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