Pain Is Absurd Because It

My Beerdrunk Soul Is Sadder Than All The Dead Christmas Trees Of The World.

I Could Never Accept Life As It Was, I Could Never Gobble Down All Its Poisons Bu There Were Parts, Tenuous Magic Parts Open For The Asking.

There's A Small Balcony Here, The Door Is Open And I Can See The Lights Of The Cars On The Harbor Freeway South, They Never Stop, That Roll Of Lights, On And On. All Those People. What Are They Doing? What Are They Thinking? We're All Going To Die, All Of Us, What A Circus! That Alone Should Make Us Love Each Other But It Doesn't.

They, All Of Them, Seemed To Put Literary Form In Front Of The Actuality And Living Of Life Itself.

It Is All Ash And Dry Leaves And Grief Gone Like An Ocean Liner.