The best reason to live is that there is no reason to live.
I walked to your apartment in the late night.
Flowers I didn’t plant began to be flowers
and I was a color and then I was none.
Conrad said, let the train take you anywhere.
I passed all the old stops. With you I liked being nowhere
and with you I live nowhere now.
The best reason to paint is that there is no reason to paint.
Keith Haring wrote that, it could be about us.
I go into churches and I go into bars:
I feel the time stop.
To feel — you can’t stop at some point.
Stop time. Time stops you.
No one will let you through if you don’t walk your own sadness.
No one will let you touch them if you’re a person at all.
And you. You, you, you
you can read these lines in any order
because I want to leave nothing out anymore
and there’s nothing here.
Words are just words. I got nowhere.
Some new thing — everything I need to feel
I feel twice and risk three of. Some new thing —
how there’s more here without us at all.