I just continue to bathe in it, yin energy, it’s not good for me, sure, it’s nice, makes me yearn for peace, death, and boobies, in truth, it’s how this whole poetry thing started, I was young, and there was so much yang, it just kept building and building, I got so high, and I couldn’t even burn, broke so many barriers, I saw heaven, my spirit, astral projected, and flew to the sky, I needed it so desperately, to dig into the earth, and bury myself in the ground, rest in peace, hopefully awaken, with a healthy mind, for some, it’s a necessity, a medicine, to keep going, I still smoke cigarettes, I still breathe fire, the season for it, may have passed, it may be necessary, to seek it out, pour gas on my body, consume some gold, gather more and more of it, and just begin to hoard, something real, a Mercedes Benz, go to LA, make a movie, set in Ecuador, set myself on fire, breathe it all in, at the equator, seasons come and go, if it gets too hot, I’ll begin to yearn for it, the winter, set a place for me, break some bread, light a candle, the river will flow, the spirit grows, continuing, ever onwards, throughout it all, he’s ever-present, my father, all that I’ve done, he remembers, identity confirmed, it all echoes, in this place, he allows it, room for me, so wealthy, reality, it’s still there, the cold hard ground, but the hens continue to lay eggs, by the river, the seed takes root, sprouts out, and stretches, I may not see the height of it, but it will continue to reach for it, the heavens…

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