The morning that Vincent was shot, he placed a large order of painting supplies.

Mysteriously, the gun that shot him was nowhere to be found and was not recovered.

The authorities or anyone else who accepted the suicide narrative have never considered how a man who had trouble feeding himself could afford a gun.

And finally… a deathbed confession in the early 1960s by the last of 3 brothers who admitted that Vincent was shot accidentally by him and his siblings during a favorite pass time of their’s, of teasing and torturing Vincent when they were teenagers.

As a side note: Vincent didn’t cut off his ear and give it to a prostitute either. There is an actual police report filed by Paul Gaughan, who was the only witness as well as a master swordsman… Besides being a wonderful painter and a world-class arsehole, it is considered a known conclusion by those who have studied the police report that Gaughan undoubtedly cut off Vincent’s ear.

I told myself I was lonely.

But what I told me wasn’t true.

I told you that you were homely.

And there was nothing I could do.

It’s just that I got bored sometimes.

At all expectations, gravitas.

And I would see what I could fuck with.

And perhaps hear you say no mas.

You said that I was awful.

Even suggested that I was cruel.

Sometimes, I was just a little drunk.

And maybe one of us was a fool?

I was attracted by her beauty.

Even read the things she wrote.

In her diary of private thoughts.

She said I wouldn’t get her vote.

I feel no guilt or shaming.

Even if somehow I got caught.

Don’t care about your feelings.

Because I know you can be bought.

There’s a quiver in the ether.

A faint hint of rich fresh air.

I will use this little breather.

Just to plan and scheme and stare.

You said you wanted feelings.

With a longing for deep truth.

You said you wanted Superman.

He’s on a cellphone by the booth.

He said he doesn’t like you.

He’s not into girls no more.

We are living in a brand new world.

And I’m by the exit door.

I was broke at the beginning.

In the middle was just bent.

On the horizon is the ending.

And the kid was heaven sent.

All tallied up, I owe nothing.

There are demons at the door.

And sleep with peace descending.

No regrets or want for more.

I’ve been doing nothing all the live long day.

Except eat, sleep, read, and pray.

I sometimes think about when you went away.

Left a note: said there was nothing more to say.

I never looked for you. Often, wondered if you’re OK.

When living life and chasing dreams. Living life gets in the way?

…

I saw you last week, alone, at a 5 star restaurant.

You looked away from yourself when I smiled: “What you want?”

I was taking a break from the back at the pots and pans.

I guess looks like failure from all our big wig plans.

You look the same; what I could see as you ran away.

I yelled. “The special is your favorite, fresh caught today.”

I sold the place last night and got so damn depressed.

My goal for today… is to see if I can get dressed.

It’s hard to be alone with someone that you love.

And never be enough to be the things that they dream of.

Nothing ventured. Nothing gained.

Nothing lasts that needs explained.

She said she wanted action. But all I saw her do was sleep.

Understood the said attraction.The reward was hard to keep.

Wasn’t much for conversation. As a lover; held no shame.

She was more the destination. As a trip, we’re glad you came.

Don’t know why I left her. It just happened like that one day.

She said we’d be together. If I would just take her away.

But she was married to another. There was that small detail.

Got tired to be the other. There was nothing there but fail.

She said she was Miss Action.

That always makes me smile.

She was lost and my attraction.

Could sleep with grace and style.

I was dreaming of a chess match.

A game in waking life that I don’t play.

It seems I was rather badly.

So I got up and walked away

I woke up after asleep 6 hours.

That’s as good as these nights get.

Ned the cat is glad to see me.

There is no trauma. But it’s early yet.

We were taught about this love.

From those who never knew.

They had heard the stories of.

From the dreamers and the few.

These survivors of those wars.

Who heard this from above.

To teach in words and metaphors.

To live, lie, and say I love.

I’ve heard them speaking of.

Just not certain or so sure.

I said I don’t believe in love.

So altruistic and so pure.

Was between the Hot and Bothered.

Though neither was succinct.

They both had something going on.

Can’t believe that they were linked.

One was flawless beauty.

The other stressed, or so, appeared.

It was like I was seeing double.

Until my vision cleared.

I’m not saying she’s not worth it.

My heart was set, multiple choice.

I said I’ll keep on keeping on.

Probably just my inner voice.

The Ancients started singing.

In an unfamiliar key.

The Stoners started dancing.

And staring at just me.

The Republicans were drowning.

Outside the Democratic waves.

The Angel’s started humming.

Just some notes from Jesus’ saves.

A voice spoke said, “You’re dreaming.”

I screamed, “Please go away.”

They kept shaking in the evening.

Through the night and brand new day.

Now, the Ancients are together.

They are smiling like they knew.

Like they’ve known about forever.

And a different shade of blue.

They spoke, “Just keep on going.”

And I drifted deep in song.

Until I woke to someone crying.

I guess I had been away too long.