scratch that, let me start smaller, how about "An exercize in writing something more sincere"
i sit and i smoke
i smoke and i write
a stuffed toy dog hangs, by his head, most of his feet missing
and his neck strung out like a slinky
on a "chicken wire" fence in what they use to call the Atrium
a neighbor across the street is screaming "Oh My God, OH MY gOD!"
half dressed in his living room pacing.
a black cat friend of mine peers over my shoulder
apparently the only one interested in anything i ever write
what i usually perceive as quite miserable surroundings
in the heat of the noon day sun,
seems quiet and peaceful this evening
a breeze rattles leaves in the trees
as a cool gust sweeps over me.
i like to spend hours on the roof on nights like tonight
not much light for writing, but comfortable peace and silence
with exception of some neighbors.
like the sort of silence where visions ideas and dreams transpire
with a big open sky
and moon and stars
ive fallen into a slump with my chosen profession
may not gain more ground 'till next school year either
but theres next summer and Europe
i'll be glad to do some traveling
if i can nurse my spirit 'till then.
All is not lost,
just at an unscheduled stop
with no train leaving soon,
i'll have to make good with what i've got
directionless,
wandering lost and blind, its eating me up
i wanna think that better days WILL eventually turn up.
but what if it comes, if ever a day does,
when "luck" runs out
and im fucked for good?
the clouds now cover the moon
and all the sky is a gray-blue
few stars show their faces as a storm may brew
light flashes in the distant sky
and i'm headed inside
to stay dry and wait
for another day to pass
bye