smoking the rent

Fuckin hell, im distracted. A million roads stretch out from each moment. I’m channel surfing. I’m tapping on my handheld. I’m standing in the middle of Times Square feeling horny, tired, happy, and sad as i try not to look up and get my head lost in the lights.



I look each person I pass defiantly in the eye for a single second before looking back down, stoned and uncertain.



Later on

Alone and unable to sleep,

I head back out into the streets.

In a long black coat loaded with graffiti.

I’m seeing a truth that no one else has ever seen like a neon sign thru the hazy end of a day…the orange glow calls my name, but I can’t read what it says...yet.