Con-versing with mineself whilst someother sits across the room

I need to talk to you
Can you stay
Awile wit me?


my hart sings in disdain

My soul breathes in the sad songs
The drunken bums sing aloud
all night long on Bowery street
Just outside the Mission's
soup kitchen.Listen

I stand shoulder to shoulder with
All saints and madmen.

Denouncers of Fate
Thee Ungodly scum
Who breathe new life into this world.

I am my own hero,
My own future to look forward two.

And you, Florence,you should listen.
Youre always speaking in spanish
And I hate that about you but dont
Mind it so much cause I know
youre beautiful and trying so hard
to keep in touch with me my sweet

Truth is
I've distanced myself from you,
and though youre sitting just across the room
from me right now
As I write this
ragged shoddy shit pome
you may as well be siting somewhere
Haffway across the wurld.ah well,

Go on then

It's the end of the discushion
And we should be lost by now.

By Pablo Pastor ( Yonkers, New York)

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