I have seen a man getting up every god-damned morning to gain nothing, 

to be nothing. 

What a serene world it would have been if every aching soul craved to be nothing. 

Travel by bus, give windows to infants, stare at rainbow lips, wait for the night to come. 

And with two rattling arms get drunk, get doped, dance with the psychedelics of every blue eyed woman. 

Settlement; a cage…contained love; a platter of pale salad on your face. 

Do the wilderness, practice the empty, 

Ruthless in love and a sky full of sunset verse…the trench of melancholia, 

Death should come on a drenched evening with monsoon wind and rambling euphoria…to find you getting your sex done right for one last time.