in new york 

in new york

nothing makes sense. not the subways, or the people crowded against you. shadow time-- this is where the part of you that rages against it comes out. speaking in tongues. no on understands. do you know what it means to be always this lonely?

i have people who say they know me.

always we want to know, and not to be known.

this is the time of day between eating and swallowing. cigarettes are a temporary solace, and whiskey pretends our company.

where do we begin to live in this one messy life?