Book Chapter Verse
are you still fighting the good fight? what was it all about again? something to do with innocent blood keeping the rooms full and the gaps in attendance at a minimum I lost it not so long ago, shed like a tight skin and left behind on a sidewalk somewhere in the sun Los Angeles is soaking from the slow leaks and the trees are glowing green with radium as she bopped around on shared beds in miniscule apartments overlooking downtown, screaming her head off at the people below, we live with the sores, both of us working on our own private headaches, the harm we do to people separating us further from the unharmed ones, and every day, every second, is another war, another desperate fight for equanimity, because this will be the final way we ever feel, so any moment of violence or heartache is the lasting impression, a total defeat, death itself, it’s just the nature of the program, isn’t it? nothing but what’s happening now and all of creation is only crumbling concrete under degrading feet, but she kissed me and smiled, she said, “I absolutely adore you,” as I graciously sighed and smiled back at her, and calculated how much time I had left before the next war would be lost.