i want to be where the Bastards are
where triviality is an accepted
form of life, and we do nothing
but slowly destroy ourselves,
i see it,
sitting in a cool dark room
with a fireplace and a single
window showing the view
of snowfall on a lonely
town, a drink in my right hand,
and me and several other silent
dark faces staring mesmerized
at the astonishing world,
of which we are a part,
from which we are annexed.
i take a drink. the liquor
warms my soul. my forehead
touches the cool windowglass and
the world drifts out of focus
as i dream of the exact place i’m in,
just me and my Bastards,
and the warmth of fire and liquor,
and the lovely sound of falling snow.
Written at 11:56 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA.