i`ve been sober for days, dirt and headaches and solitude. health food like packets of lentils mixed with bland, dry nuts, and then trips to the supermarket on an evening for ruminations upon which milk to buy and how much to drink of it. raw cabbage has played a big part in my daily existence, and round, flat boxes of soft cheese have been lingering like stains on my fingers. quite rapidly, it has become my new assertion that health is over-rated.

when i haven`t been working, on my new and postive, shiny attitude towards being and existence, i have been reading. words about philosophy and subjects such as play or empathy have been working their way into a cavern of a mind, and as i have sat in a dimly lit room shivering to the breeze of an open window and looking at the stars through its cracks i have had feelings of tranquility and smallness, knowing that even though i am just a speck within the ages and their vastness, that no other speck has experienced the same perspective as this particular speck has or will, and because of this the view of a life becomes mine, just as each belongs to the other`s, and it make me feel whole and ready and tranquil, and i have no choice but to thank a life for just being.

when i reach to the stars, they are like pin pricks on an empty movie screen, motes of light in a pallid ocean. there is fire inside, or soul in stone. and when i reach to the stars i am the fetus in their womb.

and this room is a uterus.....

and at other time`s i`ll be walking, like wandering is a friend of mine; an old drunken poet, or the toothless smile of some benevolent madness. and then i`ll see the light shine on down to the sides of rusting buildings or through the lenses of taxi cab windows, the steam rise out and through kitchen windows like soft, warm fog, and i`ll be back in my place and under the sun in the streets, thinking about time and life and how it all equates to that breeze that licks my face from time to time.

and i`ll feel small but whole again..

significant.

i can swim in sands of metaphor for days at a time, lose myself to the euphoria of the mundane and feel sweet for weeks at a time. i can see a smile from a mile or two away and grin right back at it. see a soul through an eye, or the mouth of a window, stand back, jump out, and feel whole again.

i`ve been sober for days, dirt and headaches and solitude. health food like packets of lentils mixed with bland, dry nuts, and then trips to the supermarket on an evening for ruminations upon which milk to buy and how much to drink of it. raw cabbage has played a big part in my daily existence, and round, flat boxes of soft cheese have been lingering like stains on my fingers. quite rapidly, it has become my new assertion that life is under-rated.