A pen and paper and no idea

What to write, what to think

Or how to begin

No simmer, no thought

Of anything coming to the surface

A boy, two boys

A few boys who are friends

A lazy day, a drunken night

Roommates and move-ins and

Work, and more work,

Dependency, curiosity

What could happen,

What might happen,

What has happened,

What will happen,

What's factual and what is merely


A game,

Reality or fiction

Excitement, compelling in real life

To live.

But I suppose, above all that—

Above everything else—

The feeling that remains strongest is


The sun sets and I feel the warmth,

But not the thrill of

Another day's end and a new one's begin

I don't know what I feel; no excitement, no love

To be living this life at this time.

I'm glad to be home, but nothing exciting is waiting

I'm ill and I'm tired,

Should be celebrating

A birthday, or two, or three, even so

I don't feel any particular urge to go


Except home.

I find it interesting that though I began

With no firm ideas on what to write

That I've written some lines that are

My inspiration.

8 July 2009 Wed