*On Feeling Sorry For Yrself*

The worst part is no the death of the moment but the loss of youth and all its idealisms
Like the way I left long ago but just haven't got around to going yet
So I wrap myself in my grief and snuggle with my sorrow until I fade into the background of the universe
I will hold yr hand and ask where yr hand ends and mine begins
Because our metaphysical material is endless and infinite and eternal
We are all parts of a whole, but unique at the same time
That's why I struggled for so long to understand the holy mystic writings until I just gave up
And then one day the answer was just laying there on a tiny scrap of paper that said, "Ecstacy is only the outward and lucid expression of what is going on inside us always"
And I closed my eyes to try to imagine the author of such beautiful revelations
But all I could think about was the smile on her face as the old womyn's sinapses burst into stroke
I'm looking forward to the transitional period between death and life
I'm looking forward to lucid dreaming
Every night I crawl into bed and I'm excited about the parallel worlds I'll visit in between my ears
This is life: the screening
I remember seeing War and Peace at the Universiry where you were hospitalized
I thought I'd make some friends: meet someone
Instead I just felt alienated and alone
Funny how songs trigger memories
I am not looking forward to losing those sinapses - those memories