What if I have lost it,
I read these things
and I think that I have lost it—
the tiny little spark inside
that made me burn, burn, burn
brighter than genius,
brighter than suicide,
brighter than the tiny, individual
fires burning separately
on the edge of my bathtub.
So what if I have lost it,
They are using you to sell blue jeans now
and I don’t think
I can take it anymore.
The only thing I know for certain
is that I never want to become old.
To see my body breaking down around me,
with parts falling off,
and aches when it rains.
To have my mind fracture into pieces,
and drift away into the innumerable depths of space…
To live this stinking human lie
for fifty more years
or even another
To lose you, Walter.
To forget and buy blue jeans
from a bearded vendor
with a straw hat and a smile,
when I should have clung to his neck
and begged his wisdom.
I think I am losing it, Walter.
I really think…