Concrete and ocean
Before bed time the trees fall kind of dreary and numb,
broken even to tears,
to the beach plot where its all laid out in the wind swept hill
and I have ten years of my time
no time before I succumb with wild horses
to smoking and alcoholism
in my brutalist tomb of safety and windows light
of coffee and paintings the size of my wall,
my wallet the size of the ball
all night long the art life for me
as the smoke goes up into space with my
holy ghost
outer space swimming with weird lights,
I am quiet inside all day
and with what time I have left tonight,
tonight, and only now tonight, you are the one
you are the one
I am with you now come get me
