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swathed in the comfy smell of tobacco
(when did this smell become the smell of a man?)
i sit down
almost midnight
to join kafka in dystopia
i love my life
every aching corner of it
paint stained hands fixed permanently with pen and
camel seeping into clothes
checkin out kids outside the library
almost midnight
in berkeley rivers raining from sky
today
kafka
perched on the edge of oblivion
(do i still want to die?)
i listen to boy talk about last nights coke trip
his full lips moving i tune out words to
dream of silence
kafka and your metamorphosis
sweeping my hand to rest over my heart
in awe kafka you
would be my lover kafka you
see right to the heart of me
where speed has no place and i
see the colors of the world on acid
how little our words find each other across
these oceans of distance and
we fail to supply each other sustenance we fight
to find our place in a world assigned to us
like homework kafka
baby
i make love to you slower
softer
agonizing over each letter
on this page
10 in total
due tomorrow i read you i know you
are dead im almost glad
because your eyes uncanny unglaze me
you brilliant
jaded
upset
disconnected
from everyone
sick
sorrow
spewing words
i want to be your hunger artist
hemingway was nothing but cigarettes scotch and rifles kafka
i will starve myself for you
i will cage myself from addictions i will
shut out the noise of the world
i listen to you while everyone else is sleeping
and you backlight my eyes will teal
its almost midnight
i will not sleep till dawn
because i will be listening to you
shutting out the noise of boys and paint and hunger
to write you a love story
this poem
10 pages devoted
to your words the memory
of your life
so much
i feel sometimes
like mine
