This world was created to dumbfound,
to make incomprehensible the
reasons to be alive. Think of it.
Look around. The insanity is
as palpable as rain in your face.
We are cimmerian shade deeply
rooted in shadows, as unreal to
each other as we are to ourselves.
I can prove this with a memory:
a shabby apartment, a bed meant
for one used by two and sex there so
honest, it bled out honey onto
the sheets. All these things behind rarely-
opened doors. It was the least pride I’d
ever known. I was recondite to
myself. Through the hours spent there, I could
hear the gods cackling, sending visions
of farceurs and robots through my head.
None of this was unique. Millions of
bodies did what we did. It may have
been love or just the contents of a
newly-opened jar laid on its side,
contents spreading slow like melted gold
(or raw honey) over years, over
terror, over moments and music.
Insanity ruled and we quit each
other. The aluminum taste of
lithium has never left my mouth.
In Between Hangovers 