The following was overhead at my Coffee Shop today…

“Why the long face?”

“Just dealing with ‘bad neighbors.’

“Sorry to hear that.”

“You ever had bad neighbors?”

“I have bad neighbors.”

“How do you deal with them?”

“I just get in their face and tell them that if they’re looking for trouble… Congratulations, you’ve arrived.”

Batman going crazy, he’s been angered since his youth.

And Superboy came out as gay, saying goodbye old phone booth.

The Joker feels normal now, like Matthew Mathers spitting truth.

The Myth-Men seem so human.

Clarke Kent hides behind a curl.

The Aliens are all the rage.

Only Star-Lord gets the girl.

I like it here.

The baths are warm.

I have survived.

The I of storm.

There is a peace.

A quiet pause.

You had to leave.

The way it was.

The danger felt.

Well it was old.

A kind of curse.

Where blood is cold.

I like it here.

The baths are warm.

Spirits smiled.

Have taken form.

The waves they kept on coming.

Landing on what we call the shore.

And faded back into abyss.

And keep coming back for more.

Me? I sat there drinking.

Into the deepest darkest night.

There was something in that magic.

And you were out of sight.

I swam into the ocean.

The sea, the salt, the sand.

Can’t say why I keep coming back.

Except… nothing better planned.

The sun passed moving shadows.

The shadows hid your flaws.

Hid is to strong a word.

At least it gave them pause.

I was contemplating something.

That might cause you to grin.

Thought of nothing short of self harm.

Or just once, take it on the chin.

I left you on a park bench.

And I swear I saw a tear.

It was such a perfect silhouette.

Not one could be its peer.

I left looking for some action.

Up the road in Korea town.

She had that look of satisfaction.

Said, “I won’t let you down.”

When men feel stress, they process.

When women feel stress, they talk.

Generally speaking, women feel uncomfortable with the men’s process because it happens in silence.

For a man to talk when he’s stressed only increases his stress.

I’ll just leave this here and go away for a while and write…

Talk among yourselves

OR

Process by yourself.

There is no book/essay that I can recommend more than this for the aspiring writer:

I was tired when I woke up.

I guess now that’s just the norm.

I was up to something different.

When I found shelter from the storm.

Time is fleeting, not illusions.

On my face, you see the strain.

Where once were lines of laughter.

Are now harder to explain.

I’ve been checking out the classics…

And the Russians and the woke.

And those crazy fucking Liberals…

Spitting words, so not to choke.

And all the world, they say a comedy…

Or a tragic staged surprise?

All the tears are not from laughter.

But their words are mostly lies.