Sumptuous fire.
Sitting by the side of it and feeding thin broken twigs…
Dried souls like me.
Perhaps there never was any greater and bigger truth to be found by me than this,
this forest where I sit, this moment, this snap of the wind which is weaving the grey web around and around
from the historical mountains,
these are mere coincidences…
I am not taking them as truth, they never were truth.
I have treated art like I have treated my whores…
I have brought mansions for their indifferences and hunger for their stomachs.
My walls where I could make tornadoes in silence…
those were great days,
Great days.
Well no art, no women, no lightening pussy,
this forest is no good…
No use for a carnivorous poet.
Then again death always passes by…death always gives us the chance to even live a prodigal life…
That’s all there is to this world,
take what death gives you and listen to rock n roll and slowly fade like water fades from women’s hair.

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Photograph: Google Images.