If you look through these pages
torn withered leaves, whispered meanings
dissolving on bloodsoaked screaming
terror filled streets
viewed from the roof top of your
disconnect
your high definite
touchless screens
you will not find me
among the lost, among the angry
i am gone
with the things i let go
from the weapons i choose
from the heart that dissolves
with the no ones i know
with the end of the world
like i song i don’t know
before the world and my heart could begin
i fell out, dropped below
i sympathize, with everything, in these dark deep woods
it’s why i dig in the dirt – because my understanding is the sorrow
and the days end and the tempest
some heartbeats pulse inside me and say ‘no tomorrow’
which is why i dress up
and go out
to seek my loneliness and violent needs
without a will to decieve
without a hope up my sleeve
and why i make the terrible mistakes
that bring the world to its knees
who am i?
red and white stripes
that shy androgynous geek with the nihilist view in the glasses you beat
till i break
– Waldo, lost (4 – July – 22)
The Haunted Typewriter 